


Turning Tail

by Pondfrost (AkitsuneLune)



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Background Canon Events, But Only a Little Bit - Freeform, Dark Forest (Warriors), Dark Forest Battle (Warriors), Drama, Forbidden Love, Friends to Lovers, Harestar's Nine Lives, M/M, Minor Character Death, Nine Lives Ceremonies, Not Canon Compliant, Romance, Song Lyrics, frontground oof time!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:16:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27607522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkitsuneLune/pseuds/Pondfrost
Summary: Harepaw knows the elders’ tales. He’s supposed to be brave, strong, and noble; protecting those that can’t protect themselves, like Kestrelpaw, the unexpected friend he finds after one too many training injury. Harepaw isn’t satisfied with being a mouse-heart with a friend, though. Enter a stranger with an offer. Harepaw thinks he might finally have a way to become a tom that can protect Kestrelpaw and all of WindClan, but at what cost?
Relationships: Harespring/Kestrelflight (Warriors)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 33





	1. Of Rabbits and Falcons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to Turning Tail, a three-shot focused on Kestrelfight and Harestar. The next part will be published two days from now!

Harepaw never had spent much time with Kestrelpaw before he became an apprentice.

The little black and white tom always seemed closer with Heatherpaw, and Harepaw found the fiery she-cat difficult to be around sometimes. He was a _little_ afraid of her, if he was being completely honest. That left him with Breezepaw for company, which meant he was better off alone. He spent more of his time in the elders’ den than the other kits, learning the names of old leaders and tales of the Clans before even Tallstar, and he had never really formed any kind of relationship with the now-medicine cat apprentice.

Things began to change when he was made an apprentice to Tornear. The old tom tried, he really did, but Harepaw was convinced that there was something wrong with his body; it was too easy for him to dislocate something, or get a deep cut, or be bruised from even a light blow. Harepaw knew that his mentor would get frustrated with how often they needed to cut a training day short, and in long days of tranquility, Harepaw grew restless in the medicine den.

“Don’t shift around,” Kestrelpaw scolded. “You’ll make it worse.”

Harepaw groaned and fell back in his nest, ignoring the stab of pain from his wrenched shoulder. “Just think of what’ll happen in a _real_ battle,” he commented miserably as Kestrelpaw bustled around. Barkface had already given him a bitter herb to chew up and had bound his shoulder with rushes, but Kestrelpaw insisted on fussing even after his mentor had gone off to collect some herb on the moor. “I’ll be crow-food.”

“That’s not true,” Kestrelpaw said disapprovingly. “Hasn’t Tornear taught you to defend yourself?”

Harepaw groaned again. “He’s trying, but I’m too weak.”

Kestrelpaw snorted at that and jammed some moss under Harepaw’s shoulder to allow him to lie more comfortably, then repeated, “That’s not true. We’ve barely been training for a moon. I don’t think you should be giving up this fast.”

“Yeah, and true strength comes from within, and our only true enemy is fear, and—” He cut himself off, aware that he was behaving like a fox-heart toward a cat who’d never done anything but try to help him. Then, grudgingly, added, “Thanks.”

Kestrelpaw rocked back on his paws, finally coming to a halt. “You’re not weak, Harepaw.”

Harepaw grunted, lacking the energy to argue the point. _It’s not about being weak, it’s about being strong._ And at the end of the day, he just _wasn’t_ . He’d heard enough elders’ tales to know that toms were supposed to be one of two things; either fierce, loyal, and strong, or cunning, clever, and brilliant. He supposed Kestrelpaw would fall into the second category, though _cunning_ didn’t exactly fit the gentle tom. _Maybe medicine cats get different categories. Gentle, caring, and brilliant...?_

Harepaw knew he wasn’t clever. It was just a fact, and one that he’d grown to accept. Heatherpaw could outwit him easily, and even Breezepaw had flashes of insight that Harepaw couldn’t manage. Kestrelpaw, as well, might be soft and shy, but there must have be _some_ reason Barkface took him on. Harepaw decided Kestrelpaw was probably hiding a thorn-sharp wit under his short fur.

Which left Harepaw to be a towering brute of a tom that could keep his Clan safe through the sheer power of his physical prowess. And that was far from the current reality. Harepaw was big, he supposed; he had broader shoulders than Breezepaw and wider, squarer paws than Heatherpaw or Kestrelpaw, but that was just the way his body was built; there was hardly any muscle at all on him.

“You still have lots of moons of training to go through before you’re going to be expected to be WindClan’s primary defense,” Kestrelpaw reminded him. “You don’t need to be all big and tough yet.”

_But one day I_ will _need to be,_ Harepaw replied silently, resting his chin on his paws and studying the entrance of the medicine den. _And I’m never going to be strong enough._

“Harepaw? How are you?” Tornear appeared in the gap between the heather bushes, blocking the faint shaft of sunlight. “Thanks for keeping an eye on him, Kestrelpaw.”

Kestrelpaw dipped his head and retreated a little to let Tornear speak to his apprentice. Harepaw tried to sit up to meet his eye, but found it was difficult to haul himself off the moss Kestrelpaw had added. _Mouse-dung._ He peered up at his mentor.

“I’m okay,” he rasped. “My shoulder hurts.”

“I… I didn’t mean to throw you off so hard,” Tornear began. “I just wanted you to get some practice recovering after being pushed off. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Harepaw looked down again. “S’fine,” he mumbled. “I’m going to get hurt anyway. It’s not your fault.”

“My apprenticeship started the same way,” Tornear told him earnestly. “But if you keep training and eating enough to give your body energy, you’ll become more resilient.”

Harepaw found this doubtful. Breezepaw and Heatherpaw didn’t have the same problem, and they were smaller and cleverer than him. They were supposed to be weaker; he was supposed to be the one who could protect them. He didn’t say any of that, though. Tornear wouldn’t understand. The tom was already big and strong enough to keep his Clanmates safe, and he’d be retiring once Harepaw was a warrior anyway. He’d done his part; he wouldn’t be able to see that it killed Harepaw to know that he _couldn’t_ do his. “Okay.”

Tornear seemed satisfied and retreated from the den, leaving him with Kestrelpaw again.

“Well, if you’re going to be stuck in here for days, you might as well play moss-ball with me!” Kestrelpaw’s eyes were bright.

Harepaw frowned. “Didn’t you say I was supposed to stay still? And moss-ball’s a game for kits.”

Kestrelpaw shrugged. “Suit yourself, but I think it would be fun. Besides, wouldn’t you like to practice swipes and stuff without a chance of getting hurt? Maybe it would help you exercise without making us use all our herbs on you.”

That was another sore point for Harepaw; constant injuries from training meant that Kestrelpaw and Barkface were forced to waste valuable supplies on nursing him back to health. It made his ears hot with shame, and he scowled at the other tom. “No, I don’t want to.”

He shrugged again. “Like I said, suit yourself. I’ll just quiz myself. Marigold, watermint, tansy—”

The next day, Harepaw accepted the offer of moss-ball just to shut the black and white tom up for a little while. It was more fun than he cared to admit; his claws didn’t snag painfully on the ball and there was no teeth-rattling impact involved, just back and forth batting and catching. Kestrelpaw celebrated ridiculously when he got the ball past Harepaw to his side of the den, and had an equal overreaction to Harepaw getting a point against him.

Harepaw began to get into it too, though he’d never say so outright, and a streak of good-natured trash-talking began.

“You’re as uncoordinated as a blind badger!” Harepaw exclaimed, shooting the spongy ball down toward Kestrelpaw’s backlegs.

Kestrelpaw snagged it easily with one claw and tossed it back in a higher arc, nearly brushing a branch of low-hanging heather. _He’s pretty fast for a tom cooped up in the medicine den all day,_ Harepaw thought admiringly. _Might be fun to go run around on the moor together some time._ “And you’re as slow as a dead rabbit in leaf-bare!”

Harepaw leapt from his nest to bat it to the ground, then landed on all four paws, ready to slam one paw into it and score another point, but faltered when he saw Kestrelpaw’s horrified expression. “What?”

“Are you okay? Great StarClan, I forgot about your shoulder,” he exclaimed, darting forward to nose through Harepaw’s fur and make sure there was no bone sticking out.

“Me too,” Harepaw admitted, pulling away from Kestrelpaw’s fussing. “I’m okay, though, it doesn’t hurt.”

“Well, that’s a relief!” Kestrelpaw exclaimed, then tilted his head. “Huh. I guess you can go back to training, then. Tornear should be pleased.”

Harepaw felt disappointed, though he didn’t want to say it aloud. _Don’t be a mouse-brain. You shouldn’t be unhappy to get to go train again. The moss-ball was just a distraction._ Kestrelpaw blinked at him, friendly and expectant. _Strong warriors don’t want to stay in the medicine den so they can play a kit game._

Still, when he was back on the open moor with Tornear and practicing his belly-rakes, he couldn’t help wishing his shoulder had taken another day to heal. Kestrelpaw was better company than he expected; he’d written off the tom as a more predictable and quiet version of Heatherpaw, but it seemed like there might be more hiding in the medicine cat apprentice than he’d expected. _Besides, who says being predictable and quiet is a bad thing?_ Heatherpaw’s yowl of victory as she pulled off a move against Crowfeather successfully made his ear-fur ruffle and Harepaw winced.

He brought Kestrelpaw a rabbit he caught himself to share with the other tom under the pretense of thanking him for keeping him company in the medicine den. To his disappointment, Kestrelpaw was busy and ate quickly before returning to the old warren. Harepaw wondered what would have been different if Kestrelpaw wasn’t a medicine cat apprentice. _He’d probably be more careful in sparring practice than Breezepaw is,_ he thought, rolling his pad against the packed earth underfoot and wincing at the lancing pain that shot through his leg. There wasn’t much to be done, though; Harepaw would rather have his leg ripped off than _ask_ Breezepaw to be gentler.

Still, his wasting of herbs and Barkface’s time didn’t abate as his apprenticeship continued. A particularly embarrassing incident where Tornear demonstrated a tricky fake-out swipe on the air and Harepaw flinched back so hard he sprained his tail was the last stem. Pelt hot with shame, he sat in the medicine den silently as Barkface treated him. Even Kestrelpaw’s attempts to engage him in conversation were ignored.

_I’m never going to get better,_ he thought. _I might as well retire to the elder’s den now._ He rested his muzzle on his paws, tucked his sore tail over his nose, and tried to sleep.

For the first time in moons, he dreamed, vividly.

He was out on an moor, though it was an unfamiliar one; certainly not any part of WindClan’s territory. The breeze ruffled his fur, warm as green-leaf, and he let out a relieved breath when he realized that the soreness of the waking world was gone. _This is nice._ He craned his neck, blinking at the golden sunlight. _Where in StarClan’s name am I, anyway?_ His dreams were foggy and indistinct and normally involved being in the camp, surrounded by badgers, or floating through the air while rabbits with bleeding eyes chased him. Nothing as peaceful or unfamiliar as this.

When he caught sight of four enormous trees in the distance, he gasped. _Is that… Fourtrees?_ He had never seen the legendary meeting place, but when he whirled around to confirm, wonder filled him. _Highstones! And that dark spot at the bottom must be where the Mothermouth is._

“Harepaw?”

The voice was a tom’s, raspy and unfamiliar. Harepaw whipped around. _Is this the part where I get attacked by something?_ But the cat that stood on the grassy moor where there had been nothing a moment ago made no move to threaten him.

He was a small, dark tabby, and his pelt was lined with as many pink, puckered scars as tabby stripes. Despite the heavy scarring, the little tom seemed quite friendly, skinny tail flickering to and fro and his yellow eyes round.

“How do you know my name?” Nonetheless, Harepaw narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?”

“Shredtail,” the tom answered, stretching. Harepaw caught sight of another, bigger scar that ran under his belly. “I used to be a warrior of WindClan.”

“Used to… are you dead?” Harepaw blinked. _Is this a dream from StarClan?! Shows you what befriending medicine cats gets you._ He couldn’t contain a little thrill of excitement, however. _Is he some ancestor of mine, here to give me advice?_

“Yes,” Shredtail admitted, sighing. “And it’s terribly boring. I wanted to do something more useful with my not-life, which is why I’m here.”

That answered Harepaw’s next question. “Am I one of your grandkits or something?”

Shredtail snorted. “Maybe. I lived a long, long time ago, though. I guess that’s why we showed up here.”

Harepaw cocked his head. _So he can’t choose the dream location? Who does then, if not StarClan?_ “Why are you visiting _me?_ ”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Shredtail asked, looking a little concerned. “I want to help you. We’re a lot alike, you and I. Or at least, we used to be.”

He couldn’t hide all of his doubt. _That sounds like something Tornear would say._ “I guess you can’t tell, because it’s a dream, but I’m a mouse-heart. I sprained my tail just by flinching yesterday.”

“I know,” Shredtail replied. “It makes you angry, doesn’t it?”

Harepaw frowned at the suggestion, but Shredtail wasn’t accusing, merely waiting for an answer. The apprentice slid his claws into the peaty earth absentmindedly, thinking of Kestrelpaw’s pitying eyes and the wasted herbs. “Yeah. I can’t protect my Clan if my body falls apart every time I move a whisker.”

“You’re right.”

_What?_ Harepaw was caught off-guard. He’d expected another platitude about how true strength came from within and that Harepaw would eventually grow out of it.

“You’re too weak to protect cats you care about, and if you go into battle, you’ll just end up in the medicine den,” Shredtail said with another shrug.

Harepaw scowled. _I know that’s true, but…_ “Okay, I don’t like this dream. Leave me alone.”

“Harepaw,” Shredtail said again as the apprentice squeezed his eyes shut and tried to wake up. When he opened one eye a slit, the scarred tabby was still there, giving him an amused look. “I’m sorry, but you know it’s true. And I know because it was true for me.”

Harepaw was about to snap at the tom again, but at that admission, he paused. Shredtail noticed that he was listening again and continued,

“I was the runt of my litter,” he told him. “I always got hurt in training and I was never chosen for battle patrols because Duststar knew I’d be no use. When I was finally put on one, I saw Mottlepaw, the she-cat I’d grown up with, bleed out in front of me.”

His yellow gaze hardened as he recounted it.

“It was a time before the code that prohibited warriors from killing was added,” he explained, a hint of a snarl in his throat. “I knew that the cats I loved would never be safe so long as other Clans’ mangy warriors still prowled the forests.”

Harepaw shivered. _What if Heatherpaw or Breezepaw was killed by a ThunderClan warrior? Or, StarClan forbid, if_ Kestrelpaw _was killed?_ The idea of the smaller tom being injured was unexpectedly panic-inducing. _He’s a medicine cat! He can’t defend himself._

“I trained until I knew that no cat would be harmed if I made it my mission to protect them,” Shredtail said, softening a little when he saw that Harepaw was shaken at the idea. “And I want to help you do the same. I had to do it alone, but it doesn’t need to be that way for you. I will train you.”

“You will?” Harepaw’s fear at the story vanished. “How?”

“Here.” He flicked his tail at the empty moor. “Come on!”

Then he took off, tail streaming out behind him, and Harepaw shot after him. It felt good to run again without feeling stabs of pain with each pawstep. Their paws thrummed a steady beat on the earth, and Harepaw’s fur warmed in the dream-sunlight. Shredtail skidded to a halt in a hollow that Harepaw guessed had been the old territories’ version of the training heath.

“Wrestle me,” Shredtail offered, bunching up his hindlegs as if he was preparing to leap at Harepaw. His tail whipped from side to side, waiting for Harepaw to react.

Doubt flickered in him, but he couldn’t deny that exertion in the dream felt markedly different than it did in the waking world. Maybe sparring would be different too.

He crouched too. “Alright.”

Shredtail leapt and Harepaw shot forward too, trying to knock the smaller tom off-balance. When they collided, rather than the head-spinning pain that Harepaw had grown to expect, he just felt a satisfying impact that made a forgotten competitive spark, deep in his belly, flare to life. Shredtail rolled with the blow and sprung to his paws, yellow eyes glittering. Harepaw braced himself for another attack, but Shredtail began to circle him.

Harepaw kept his guard up, his tail lashing as he anticipated Shredtail’s next offensive.

“Aren’t you going to take a shot at me?” Shredtail asked. It wasn’t mocking, exactly, just expectant.

_Is this a trick?_ Harepaw kept his body tense as he replied, “Should I?”

Shredtail jumped and Harepaw rolled backward with the momentum, then kicked hard with his back legs to throw him off. Again, the tom recovered easily, and took up his circling once more.

“You can’t protect anyone by waiting for the other cat to strike,” Shredtail told him. Harepaw narrowed his eyes and didn’t reply, waiting for the other tom to continue. Sure enough, he straightened up a little, leaving his ready position and added, “Playing defensive all the—”

He didn’t let him finish. The tension that was wound tight in his hindlegs snapped free in an instant as Harepaw shot forward and tackled him. They rolled over, crashing into each other and then the earth over and over, but Harepaw didn’t go limp with pain as usual. Instead, adrenaline blazed through him and he grabbed Shredtail by the nape of his neck and shook him, trying to stun the tabby. Shredtail let out a rusty purr at the attempt, then spun, ripping himself free, and lashed a sheathed paw across Harepaw’s chest.

“Good!” he exclaimed, then jumped on Harepaw again. Once more, they wrestled. Harepaw attempted a belly-rake and Shredtail boxed his ears in return, neither tom getting the upper paw. Eventually, Shredtail broke free of Harepaw’s grasp with such ease that the apprentice was left wondering if Shredtail had been holding back. They were both breathing hard, and Shredtail’s eyes glowed with exertion.

“There it is! I knew you had some fighting spirit.”

Harepaw couldn’t help a purr. Fighting felt _good_ , which was an entirely novel concept after moons of sprains and bruises. _I wish Tornear could see this._ “You’re not bad yourself.”

Shredtail snorted, but clapped Harepaw on the back with his tail. “You’re better than I was when I started, that’s certain. I think with a half-dozen moons more, you might be better than I am now.”

Harepaw eyed him doubtfully. He’d felt the wiry, packed muscle under that deceptively skinny pelt, and reflecting on the fight, was quite sure that Shredtail had adjusted his own abilities so as not to finish it in heartbeats. Still, the praise puffed his chest up. “Really?”

“Really,” Shredtail agreed. “You just need to have a little more confidence. Trust me; your body isn’t going to fail you if you throw yourself in whole-heartedly. The problem isn’t in your pelt or your bones, it’s all those doubts stored up in that big head of yours.” He flicked Harepaw’s face, and Harepaw ducked away with a _mrrow_ of amusement. “You keep thinking you’re going to get hurt, so you shrink away from blows instead of properly defending yourself. And you wouldn’t attack me first until I _told_ you to! You can’t let your enemy always get the first hit, or they’ll be getting the last hit too.”

Harepaw nodded, finally catching his breath. It was a lot easier to accept advice when he wasn’t smarting and exhausted, he thought. “Yeah, next time I’ll tear your fur off before you get a word in edgeways.”

“Not a bad idea,” Shredtail agreed, eyes glimmering with humour. “You should wake up now. Once that sprained tail is healed, try out some of the stuff I’ve told you. I’ll be watching.”

Harepaw wasn’t sure if that was a joke, but figured it wasn’t too strange considering Shredtail saw enough already to know that Harepaw needed his help. “I will!” he said, and closed his eyes. The warmth of the sun vanished, and pain sparked at the base of his tail.

When he opened his eyes again, he was back in the medicine den. The old melancholy threatened to settle over him again, but he forced it away. _I’m not weak anymore. Shredtail’s going to teach me, and then I’ll be strong enough to protect_ every _cat. No ThunderClan crowfood will get their claws into Kestrelpaw on my watch._

He stood and stretched, trying to ignore the tremble of discomfort in his tail.

“You’re awake!” Kestrelpaw said, hurrying over to check his tail. “How is it? Does it hurt?”

Harepaw let him check him over despite the embarrassment that prickled in his pelt. “Not much.”

“It’s too bad it’s green-leaf,” Kestrelpaw commented. “Barkface says that moss soaked in ice-melt can bring down swelling better than any herb.”

Harepaw grunted.

“I hope Onestar doesn’t send you hunting squirrels,” Kestrelpaw worried aloud. “I think ThunderClan is getting testy and I wouldn’t be surprised if the next hunting patrol gets into a scrap.”

“It’s green-leaf,” Harepaw sighed. “There’s enough prey to go around. If ThunderClan started something, then they’d be _looking_ for trouble. Besides, don’t you have enough herbs for every cat?”

Kestrelpaw frowned. “But you…” He didn’t finish the thought, seeming to sense Harepaw’s shame. _He really does think I’m a mouse-heart._ He couldn’t help hoping there might be a little skirmish. A vision of him returning to camp, supporting an injured Breezepaw or Heatherpaw with no wounds of his own landed in his head. That would impress Kestrelpaw. He’d treat the other cats and be pleased that he didn’t need to use any herbs on Harepaw, and then they could share a squirrel together.

“I’m going to go tell Tornear that I’m ready to train,” he said determinedly. Concern flashed in Kestrelpaw’s eyes.

“Okay. Be careful,” the tom urged him.

Tornear was pleased to see his apprentice up and about again, but Harepaw’s mood dipped when he found out they would be hunting. Just as he was about to resign himself to boredom, he remembered Onestar’s new initiative on hunting. _We’re not supposed to just hunt rabbits anymore!_ A little of the adrenaline from his dream tingled in his veins when he thought of Kestrelpaw’s fear that there would a border skirmish.

Harepaw nudged Breezepaw and murmured in the smaller tom’s ear, “Let’s go hunt some squirrels by the ThunderClan border.”

His goldenrod-yellow eyes flashed with malicious delight. “Good idea. I’d like to show those mice-munchers the skill of a WindClan warrior.”

_That was easier than I thought it would be,_ Harepaw thought, taking off after his denmate. Their mentors followed a heartbeat later, chasing them all the way across the territory to the strip of woodland that Onestar had instructed them to use as practice for squirrel-hunting a half-moon earlier.

Breezepaw pointed his tail when Harepaw arrived next to him in the line of the trees. He had already pinpointed a squirrel, fat and gray and nibbling on a chestnut, and Harepaw began creeping toward it. Breezepaw, hardly more than a dark shadow under the trees, stalked it from the other side, and the two toms closed in on it without so much as a tail-signal to the other. Putting his skill into practice felt almost as good as sparring with Shredtail had, Harepaw thought.

He bunched his legs, ready for the killing blow, when the wind suddenly changed and the squirrel’s head jerked up. It streaked into the forest and, without missing a beat, both apprentices sprinted after it. Harepaw leapt over a log, then dashed around some brambles, the squirrel’s scent thick on his tongue. _You won’t get away so easily!_

“Stop!”

The shout rang out, so loud and authoritative that Harepaw complied before he even knew who had spoken the command. Breezepaw skidded to a halt next to him, ears pricked and breathing hard.

Not more than a fox-length away stood the largest tom Harepaw had ever seen. Harepaw’s own shoulders were considered broad by WindClan standards, but the brown tom scowling at them from the head of a ThunderClan patrol was surely twice as wide. _Dustpelt,_ he remembered. The tom had been commended at the last Gathering for chasing off a fox. Looking at him now, Harepaw didn’t doubt it.

The squirrel had disappeared, but the thrill of the chase didn’t drain away. _Are we going to fight?_ Despite the confidence that Shredtail’s advice had given him, now that he was muzzle-to-muzzle with a cat as established and fierce as Dustpelt… He tried not to tremble under the heat of Dustpelt’s amber stare.

“What in StarClan’s name are you doing?” Harepaw relaxed a little when he heard Tornear’s mew ring out. He was even _more_ senior and powerful than Dustpelt. If it came to blows, he could test Shredtail’s advice on some cat else; the little golden she-cat peeping out from behind him, maybe. _One day I’ll be bigger and fiercer than Dustpelt,_ Harepaw vowed. _But… not today._

“How dare you frighten our apprentices?” Tornear snapped, coming to a halt beside Harepaw. Whitetail was right behind him, giving the ThunderClan warrior a challenging stare. He was grateful for her presence too; Whitetail could make peace if things went south.

“They were about to cross the border!” Dustpelt retorted. Harepaw wanted to defend himself— _But we didn’t!_ —but the prospect of turning Dustpelt’s scowl his way was too worrying.

Breezepaw had no such qualms.

“How do _you_ know?”

“You weren’t even slowing down!” Sure enough, Dustpelt’s furious gaze pinned itself to Breezepaw, who only fluffed his spiky pelt up more.

“I’d have caught the squirrel in one more stride!” Breezepaw snapped right back. Shame flashed through Harepaw as he realized he was too nervous to stand up for himself the same way as Breezepaw. _I guess Shredtail wouldn’t be training me if I wasn’t. I’ll say something once I’m strong._

“You were nowhere near it!” Another of the apprentices, a tom, shouted from the back of the patrol. Harepaw grimaced. _This is just going to escalate, isn’t it?_ He was no longer hoping for a scrap; the adrenaline and courage was gone and left behind his old certainty that he’d be hurt if it came to blows. _Come on, Whitetail._

“Was too!” Breezepaw spat.

“Everyone knows WindClan can only catch rabbits!” the golden tom snorted. “ThunderClan has the best squirrel hunters.”

_That_ made Harepaw square his shoulders. _Didn’t he see my maneuver with the log?_ “Not anymore! Every WindClan apprentice has special training in the woods so we don’t have to rely on rabbits anymore.”

This was evidently the wrong thing to say. Dustpelt and the apprentice narrowed their eyes, while a lithe, older she-cat at Dustpelt’s shoulder cocked her head. “Really? Why?”

Harepaw snapped his jaws shut. _Mouse-brain! Don’t tell them WindClan secrets!_

“It’s none of your business!” Tornear intervened, eyes blazing.

“Is it so you can invade our territory?” Dustpelt stepped closer to the border, seeming like he was looking for an excuse to pounce on Tornear and give him another shredded ear.

Whitetail, at last, put herself between them. “We have woodland in our territory. It makes sense to use it. And we don’t want to be dependent on one sort of prey anymore. The elders still speak of the hunger WindClan suffered when Twolegs started poisoning the rabbits before the Great Journey.”

Harepaw nodded, a bit of his anxiety fading. _Maybe if they understand…_ “And there are sheep on the moorland now, with Twolegs and their dogs—”

Tornear slapped his tail over his mouth and Harepaw shrank back, ashamed when his mentor gave him a silencing look. “That’s none of ThunderClan’s business either! So long as we stay on our side of the border, we can hunt what we like.”

Despite the humiliation that heated Harepaw’s pelt at being silenced like a rowdy kit in front of a patrol of ThunderClan cats, it seemed like tempers were cooling. He let the fur on his spine smooth. _Sorry, Shredtail, maybe another day._

“But squirrels don’t know about the border. They cross over it. You’d be eating our prey,” Dustpelt growled. _Or maybe not._

“If it’s on WindClan territory it becomes our prey!” Tornear snapped.

“Squirrels have always been ThunderClan prey!” Dustpelt stopped pacing and let the fur stand up on his neck.

“Is that part of the warrior code?”

Dustpelt hissed at Tornear’s mocking reply, but Whitetail once again cut them off just as it seemed like one would leap at the other.

“Leave it,” Whitetail murmured to Tornear. “This isn’t worth losing fur over.”

Tornear let out a slow, hissing breath, then agreed, “Okay. For now.”

Both toms backed down slowly, and Dustpelt sat, his amber eyes roving over each WindClan cat coldly. Harepaw squared his shoulders when the senior warrior gave him a suspicious stare, but Tornear guided him away from the border.

“Come on,” he rumbled. “ThunderClan cats will be mouse-brained and unreasonable, and water is wet. Let it go.”

Harepaw fluffed his pelt indignantly. _As if_ I _need to be told! I wasn’t the one biting Dustpelt’s whiskers off!_ Still, relief washed over him as they loped away from the border. _I guess I’ll have to wait to use Shredtail’s advice for another day._

That day came about a moon later.

Breezepaw had killed a squirrel on ThunderClan territory, and Harepaw didn’t have time to tell him to run before he spotted dark pelts in the trees. A heartbeat later, they were facing off against two hissing ThunderClan warriors.

Harepaw’s heart beat quicker, preparing for battle, and he loosed a long, loud yowl to warn the mentors. A long-legged black tom tackled him as he did, and Harepaw rolled with the momentum, remembering his wrestling with Shredtail. The impact rattled his teeth, but he didn’t feel the yank that would signal a wrenched shoulder or a dislocated paw. He fastened his teeth into the warrior’s pelt and tore off a chunk of fur, hissing all the while. _Don’t get scared! Defend yourself! Get the first hit!_

Tornear launched himself into battle and his mentor’s scent washed over Harepaw as the older tom dragged the black ThunderClan tom off his apprentice. A few heartbeats later, Whitetail appeared with the border patrol consisting of Ashfoot, Owlwhisker, and Weaselfur. Triumph flared in Harepaw— _These mouse-brains don’t stand a chance!_ —and he threw himself at the long-legged tom again. A zing of pain shot through him when his enemy clawed his chest, but rather than wilting, he battered his soft belly with renewed energy.

The tom ripped himself free, growling, then spun around and gasped when his eyes landed on something in the trees. “Thank StarCl—”

Tornear bowled him off his paws, and both toms went down in a whirl of teeth and claws. Harepaw stumbled back, fear sparking in his pelt when he saw what had provoked the exclamation from the ThunderClan warrior. Dustpelt, accompanied by the viciously scarred she-cat that Harepaw recognized as Brightheart, a golden-brown tom, a gray-spotted tom with the darkest blue eyes that Harepaw had ever seen, and a few apprentices, hurtled out of the undergrowth and set upon the WindClan patrol. Harepaw’s pelt spiked, but he rallied his courage and dove at one of the apprentices, a small gray and white she-cat. _She must be hardly out of the nursery!_

He felt a tingle of shame for attacking such an easy opponent, then very suddenly felt far less sympathy when she swept his paws out from under him neatly and sent him crashing to the ground. He banged his muzzle, pain sparking through his head, and he shook his head to clear it, trying to prepare for another attack by the other apprentice.

“Spread out and drive them down there!” Dustpelt’s order rang out.

The small she-cat was gone, replaced by a furiously-hissing Brightheart. _I didn’t even stand a chance against a tiny apprentice!_ Harepaw thought, stumbling back. _I can’t take on a whole warrior, she’ll shred me!_ But Breezepaw leapt at Brightheart from next to Harepaw, trying to knock her off her paws, and the she-cat focused her attention on throwing the apprentice to the ground. Harepaw gulped, then jumped on her as well and joined Breezepaw in clawing Brightheart’s remaining ear.

Brightheart rolled suddenly, taking both toms down with her, as Whitetail attempted to grapple her. She sprang to her feet, then slammed Whitetail onto the ground and beat the breath out of her with rapid blows to her belly. Breezepaw writhed on the ground for a moment, then got to his paws and waggled his haunches, ready to pounce on Brightheart again.

Instead, like a beam of sunlight, the golden tom that Harepaw had seen by the border a moon ago shot out of the fray and grabbed Breezepaw with glinting, unsheathed claws. They crashed to the ground together, spitting and hissing all the while.

Harepaw was about to jump in to save his denmate when a pair of jaws fastened themselves to his tail. He yowled with pain and spun to see a pale tortoiseshell and white she-cat with her pelt standing on end, raising her paw to slash at him. He recoiled, stumbling, and fell onto his back. A heartbeat later, she pounced on him and they rolled together. More blows battered his pelt, and this time, the pain only served to discourage him. _Shredtail was wrong!_ He thought, trying to duck away from the onslaught. _I’m a mouse-heart. Kestrelpaw’s going to be so disappointed._

When the apprentice’s weight disappeared, he laid there for another few heartbeats, feeling hopelessly weak and defeated. _I might as well let Dustpelt break my neck._

“Get up!” Tornear snapped at him, hooking a claw into his pelt and yanking at him. Harepaw groaned, then got to his paws. _What use is it?_ WindClan was losing; there were just too many ThunderClan warriors and Dustpelt’s plan to drive them down the gully was working.

He chased after his Clanmates, then heard another growl behind him. He whipped around to see the same gray-and-white she-cat that had beat him so easily in their last clash.

“Not you again!” he groaned aloud. She answered by knocking him to the ground as deftly as she did the first time. He hardly resisted this time, just trying to escape the blow when she slammed her paws down. It was no good; without missing a beat, she spun and delivered a bruising kick to his side. He yowled and rolled, then scrambled to his paws and ran.

“Run back to the nursery, Harekit!” she crowed as he leapt the stream.

_Great, she knows my name._ Shame flushed through his pelt as Ashfoot sounded the retreat. _Is it because I ran?_ His Clanmates joined him, all bearing welling scratches and missing fur, and anger with himself pulsed through his stinging flanks. _I was mouse-brained to want a battle!_ He’d had a few more dreams of Shredtail; usually they would spar or the tabby would teach him a move, but obviously it had done nothing for him. _I’m still a mouse-heart._

“Stay away from the border,” Ashfoot said to Breezepaw when they’d caught their breath.

Breezepaw’s tail stuck up, outrage plain on his face. “Just because some ThunderClan mouse-brains want to make a fuss?! Onestar said—”

Ashfoot lashed her tail once to silence the apprentice. “I don’t care what Onestar said,” she mewed, yellow eyes hard. “A few squirrels aren’t worth a battle. From now on, hunt on the moor if you can’t keep to the right side of the border.”

_Of Rabbits and Falcons_

Harepaw dreamed of Shredtail and the old moor again. He hung his head, ashamed, knowing that Shredtail saw his terrible performance in the battle. The scarred tabby wasn’t angry though.

“I know what happened,” Shredtail said before Harepaw could speak. “You got into your own head again. Even after I started training, it happened to me too.”

Harepaw let out a relieved huff, but Shredtail raised his tail.

“However,” he continued, “the next time you clash with ThunderClan, you’re going to need to do better.”

“I will,” Harepaw promised, but there was a weight to Shredtail’s eyes that made his fur prickle with apprehension. “Why? Do you know something?”

Shredtail sighed. “I shouldn’t tell you, you’re not…” He swallowed, looked up at the eternally clear blue sky, and then levelled a dark gaze at Harepaw. “Onestar is going to keep pushing our Clan to hunt on ThunderClan’s territory, and the battle that they bring…” He closed his eyes like it was too painful to continue.

“What? What is it?” Harepaw stepped forward, fear swelling in his belly.

Shredtail swallowed. “Kestrelpaw will die in the conflict.”

“ _What?!_ ” Harepaw exclaimed, recoiling.

“Listen to me, Harepaw, it doesn’t _have_ to happen,” Shredtail told him, eyes round and genuine. “You can prevent it, but you must be brave.”

A tremble started in his paws and threatened to take over his whole body, but Harepaw took a deep breath. “How?”

“Remember that you’re protecting him,” Shredtail said. “Remember what’s on the line. I couldn’t save Mottlepaw. Don’t let the same thing happen to Kestrelpaw.”

Harepaw took another breath, still on the verge of panic. _Did he get a prophecy?_ “I won’t! I won’t, I’ll do whatever it takes to protect him.”

“Good.” Shredtail nodded. “Now, come on, pretend I’m Dustpelt, coming to hurt him.”

It wasn’t the first time the tabby had proposed that sort of training exercise, so Harepaw didn’t falter and launched himself at ‘Dustpelt’ with as much force as he could muster. They didn’t stop until Harepaw was out of breath and shaking with exhaustion.

When he woke, stiff and still tired, he couldn’t stop himself from hurrying to the medicine den to check on Kestrelpaw. To his relief, the black-and-white tom was slumbering peacefully in his nest. _I don’t know how much longer we’ll have if I can’t protect him…_ he thought, then resolved to try harder to spend time with his friend. _I shouldn’t keep dragging my paws. Even if I do annoy him, it’s better than losing him forever and not having anything to remember him by._

Breezepaw seemed quicker that day in training and body-slammed Harepaw, sending his denmate to the hard earth with enough force to bruise, at least. Harepaw groaned and rolled over, not bothering to try to launch an attack against him. _Great. So much for protecting Kestrelpaw._ Tornear sent him to the medicine den when they finished that day. _Guess this is one way to spend more time with him._

“Hi, Kestrelpaw,” he said, grimacing when he put pressure on his left paw as he stepped into the den.

“Wrenched, bruised, or dislocated?” Kestrelpaw asked, twitching his whiskers and helping Harepaw into a nest.

“Aren’t you the medicine cat?” Harepaw responded.

Kestrelpaw sighed. “After being in here this much, I’d think you’d start to be able to tell. It’s wrenched. Lie down, I’ll bind it.”

Harepaw complied, giving a contented huff as Kestrelpaw shuffled around, gently wrapping his shoulder in rushes and offering Harepaw a few leaves with one slender paw. Harepaw chewed them up, accustomed to the taste, and sighed.

“Moss-ball?” he offered.

“I’m busy!” But Kestrelpaw’s gaze warmed at the memory and he purred. “That was fun. Maybe tomorrow, if you’re still in here.”

“Busy medicine cat,” Harepaw sighed to himself, relaxing. “Taking care of the whole Clan.”

Kestrelpaw snorted but Harepaw could tell he was flattered as he gave his chest a few quick licks. “Not until I get my full name.”

“Kestrelfeather, Kestrelfall, Kestrelflight,” Harepaw mused.

“Haretail, Hareface, Hareclaw,” Kestrelpaw replied.

“Not Hareface, I hope!” he exclaimed.

“I think you’ll be getting your full name soon,” Kestrelpaw commented. “I heard Onestar talking about needing new warriors.”

Harepaw hummed thoughtfully. _Maybe. I’ve been training long enough, I think, but…_ He didn’t feel the excitement he expected. _I still have so much to learn. Well, even if Tornear stops training me and I’m not technically an apprentice anymore, I can still learn from Shredtail. We’ve barely scratched the surface of all he can show me._ And if the scarred tom really had seen the future, Harepaw would need it. Harepaw watched Kestrelpaw, nervous, but tried to hide it. _I’ve got to make the most of the time I have left with him._

“Then I can order you around,” Harepaw teased instead of voicing his fears.

“As if!” Kestrelpaw snorted. “You think I let Nightcloud and Tornear order me around _now?_ You’ll be at the bottom of the fresh-kill pile again, anyway. You’ve gotten used to being the biggest, oldest apprentice, I bet.”

Harepaw snorted. _If only you knew._ “It would be nice to have fewer expectations.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” Kestrelpaw said thoughtfully. “Don’t you think every cat will expect you to be the next rising star of WindClan?”

“I hope not!” Harepaw sat up, alarmed. “Do you think they will?”

“I’m just tugging your whiskers. Lie down, you’re going to make your shoulder worse.”

Harepaw snorted but did as he said, and sighed. “I hope I’ll be an apprentice for at least another moon. I’m not ready to be a full warrior.”

Kestrelpaw made an impressed noise. “Huh. That’s more mature of you than I would have expected.”

Harepaw frowned, though his pelt flashed with warmth. _Does he think I’m mature?_ “I’m very wise! Besides, it’s not maturity, it’s cowardice.”

“Here we go again,” Kestrelpaw snorted.

“It’s true!” Harepaw protested, and Kestrelpaw merely snorted again. _But not for long, Kestrelpaw. I’ll protect you; Shredtail will teach me._

Sure enough, that night he dreamed of the tabby again. He didn’t waste much time talking, instead jumped straight to sparring. Shredtail pushed him harder, yanking him off-balance and hitting him hard enough to send him reeling. Harepaw rose to meet his dream-mentor, rearing up on his hind paws and swinging his paws to bludgeon the tabby’s scarred muzzle with equal force.

When they stopped, Harepaw dropped to the ground, exhausted.

“Get up!” Shredtail scolded him. “You’re still not strong enough. Look, I’ll teach you a move that you can use in the battle.”

At the reminder of the approaching conflict with ThunderClan, Harepaw got to his paws and shook out his pelt.

“Stay still; I’m not going to hurt you,” Shredtail told him, then jumped forward and bit his neck. Harepaw flinched, but didn’t pull away when he realized that Shredtail’s grip was only on his fur and not his skin. Then Shredtail reached out and dragged his paw from underneath Harepaw’s belly all the way to his chest. If Shredtail’s claws had been unsheathed, Harepaw didn’t doubt that he’d have been left with a scar, or worse.

“Distract them by grabbing their neck, then slice their belly,” Shredtail told him, letting him go.

Harepaw shivered at the brutality of it, but nodded. “Right.”

“Try it on me.”

Harepaw carefully got some of Shredtail’s short fur beneath his teeth, then lashed out with a forepaw and pretended to score his paws up Shredtail’s stomach. As he did, he noticed suddenly that he was tracing the long scar that he had spotted on their first meeting.

“Is this…” Harepaw began, backing up.

“Yes,” Shredtail grunted. “And I’m going to teach you how to get out of it, too, so you don’t end up like me.”

Harepaw blinked, a little stunned. _If it killed him, isn’t it a…_ But he brushed off the thoughts, watching as Shredtail flicked his tail at his own neck.

“The grip is too weak to hurt your neck,” Shredtail said. “It’s just a distraction, because when a cat realizes their life is in danger, they’ll panic. That will give you an opening to slice open their belly.”

“You said—” Harepaw began, then fell silent when Shredtail glared at him.

“I’m getting there. This move is going to be the hardest for _you_ to counter, so long as you behave like a mouse-heart.” Shredtail’s tone was cool but Harepaw dipped his head, accepting the insult as true. “The grip on your neck isn’t going to be what kills you. So before you get your belly cut open, you need to rip yourself free. Your fur will tear, and it’ll hurt, but you’ll be alive.”

Harepaw nodded, sobered by the plain discussion of a killing blow. _I suppose only rogues will use this._

“Now let’s try it.”

And before Harepaw had a chance to catch his breath, Shredtail shot forward and grasped his neck with needle-sharp teeth. As the tabby had said, animalistic panic gripped Harepaw. _But you’ll be alive._ The words echoed as Harepaw tore himself free. He caught a gleam of silver claws as Shredtail’s paw lashed out in empty air. _Were his claws unsheathed?_ But either way, Shredtail had missed. Harepaw’s bare skin at his neck tingled, but triumph glowed in his chest when Shredtail grinned.

“Very good! Very good. You’re conquering your fear.”

Harepaw lifted his chin, adrenaline still tingling in his paws. “It’s because of you.”  
Shredtail cocked his head. “Maybe. You’re still working hard, and I can see that.”

He puffed out his chest further and Shredtail snorted.

“Alright, alright. Let’s practice.”

_Of Rabbits and Falcons_

Harepaw’s assessment came a half-moon later. They had been hunting, both on the moor and in the strip of forest by the border, and Harepaw had caught enough to make even Tornear twitch an ear, impressed. They moved to the training heath for sparring practice, and Whitetail and Crowfeather set both their apprentices against Harepaw.

Heatherpaw jumped straight at him while Breezepaw circled, and Harepaw kicked away the she-cat with ease. He watched Breezepaw through slitted eyes, thinking of Shredtail’s first advice to him. _You can’t let your enemy always get the first hit, or they’ll be getting the last hit too._ So before Breezepaw could leap, Harepaw threw himself forward and knocked Breezepaw’s paws out from under him. Heatherpaw jumped on Harepaw’s back, and he reared up, throwing her off and giving himself the chance to batter Breezepaw’s side in the same movement.

As Breezepaw recovered, Harepaw swung his paw at Heatherpaw’s muzzle. The she-cat ducked away, but wasn’t fast enough to escape his second attack as he shouldered her off her paws and delivered a swift back-kick when she tried to scramble away.

He turned to face Breezepaw again just in time to meet the tom’s eyes as he shot forward and grabbed Harepaw’s neck with open jaws. _Shredtail’s move!_ Despite the shock that flashed through him, Harepaw’s muscle memory was already working and without thinking twice, he ripped himself backwards to leave Breezepaw with a mouthful of white fur. Breezepaw’s strike aimed at his belly came a heartbeat too late, and Harepaw shoved him off balance once more.

“Alright, stop!” Tornear called out, a gloating note in his voice. “ _Excellent_ , Harepaw, just fantastic.”

Harepaw stood, shaking off the pain that sparked where his fur had been torn away. _Where did Breezepaw learn that?_ He eyed Whitetail curiously, but she seemed just as puzzled as Harepaw.

“Careful with that throat move, Breezepaw,” his mentor cautioned him. “You could really hurt a cat.”

Breezepaw snorted, but no cat paid him mind. Tornear ushered him back to camp, where he was named Harespring, and then offered to share a meal with him. Harespring glanced at him and the other waiting senior warriors, then back at the medicine den.

“Actually, Tornear, if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to eat with Kestrelpaw,” he admitted, ducking his head.

“Of course! New warrior’s choice,” Tornear declared, then padded off to sit with Ashfoot and Whitetail.

Harespring dropped a rabbit in front of Kestrelpaw, who had been watching the ceremony off in one edge of the camp with his mentor.

“Want to share?” he asked.

“Since you’re going to be ordering me around from now on…” Kestrelpaw teased, eyes shining with good humour. “I don’t see why not.”

They settled down together and continued talking and joking late into the evening until Onestar finally told Harespring it was time for his vigil. He stood, stretched, bid farewell to Kestrelpaw, and then took up his position in front of the entrance of the camp.

As he watched the camp settle down for the night, under the stars, his gaze lingered on Kestrelpaw. He knew he should be pleased to be a warrior, and looking forward to his future with the medicine cat apprentice as a close friend, but he couldn’t shake the worry that plagued his mind. _Shredtail’s vision of that battle must not be far off now. I’m going to have to be brave._

He watched the black-and-white tom as he helped his elderly mentor into the medicine den and felt a protective surge in his chest. _I have to get stronger, for him._ It was a pity he wouldn’t be sleeping tonight; he would have trained harder than ever. _I hope I see Shredtail tomorrow,_ he decided. _I won’t waste a moment._ He flexed his claws, absentmindedly tearing up the earth, and spent the night imagining all the moves he would use to tear the pelt off whatever ThunderClan fleabag threatened his—his _friend_.

He enjoyed his new warrior name in peace for another moon. Onestar continued pushing the Clan to hunt closer and closer to the stream that separated them from ThunderClan. There were a few close-calls, but still no sign of the battle that Shredtail had predicted.

Until a cool leaf-fall day on a routine border patrol. When Harespring saw the forms on the moor, lit by the dawn sun, apprehension thrummed in his paws. _Is this the battle? They’re on our territory!_ But Kestrelpaw was still safely in the camp.

Ashfoot was as tense as he felt when they approached the patrol. He knew their steadfast deputy had been growing ever more anxious from Onestar’s unreasonableness. He didn’t want to imagine what point Onestar would be at without her influence.

They bounded down the hill toward the ThunderClan cats and Harespring called, “Stay where you are!”

There was no Tornear to reprimand him for speaking out of turn, this time. _Let Ashfoot handle this,_ he told himself, but it was hard to look at any of the ThunderClan warriors without picturing them pouncing on the defenseless Kestrelpaw.

“Isn’t there enough prey in ThunderClan territory?” he hissed at them as their patrol approached the trespassers. When they reached them, Ashfoot opened her mouth to speak and was interrupted by their leader, ThunderClan’s deputy Brambleclaw.

“We’ve come to speak with Onestar.”

“We come in peace,” Sandstorm added. _A senior warrior,_ Harespring thought. He had no doubt there was hard muscle beneath her pale pelt. _Dustpelt might not be with them, but she could hurt Kestrelpaw badly._

Ashfoot would hear none of it. “Go back to your own territory!”

“Not until we’ve seen Onestar.” Brambleclaw’s eyes glittered with determination, and fear sunk in Harespring’s belly like a stone. _They want to come to our camp! It’s a ploy, they’re planning an attack! This is what Shredtail was warning me about._

“ThunderClan should stop thinking they can come and go on WindClan territory

as they please!” Owlwhisker spat from beside Harespring, who twitched an ear with agreement. “I bet you don’t visit Blackstar this often!”

“Just go home,” Ashfoot growled. “Onestar doesn’t owe you any favors.”

Brambleclaw’s eyes narrowed, and adrenaline pulsed in Harespring’s veins. _If he takes a step…_

“We promised Firestar we’d speak to Onestar. We only want to talk!” His voice dripping with false sincerity, Brambleclaw stepped forward.

Taking that as enough evidence of his intentions, Harespring flung himself at the deputy. He stopped just before he struck him and hissed, lips drawn back, “Not another paw step!”

“We want to see Onestar,” Brambleclaw repeated, eyes dark, and raised his paw to take another step.

Visions of Brambleclaw gripping Kestrelpaw’s limp body between his teeth dancing in his head, Harespring pounced, paw lashing out to rip open Brambleclaw’s skin. Instead of drawing blood, Brambleclaw knocked Harespring’s strike aside with one paw, lightning-fast. With another blow, Harespring found himself slammed into the ground. He was pinned. _No! How did he do that?!_ Harespring writhed, but the deputy was as heavy as a badger, and continued his conversation with Ashfoot as if the warrior beneath him was nothing more than a caught mouse. Humiliation seared his pelt, and Harespring screwed his eyes shut. _I’m sorry, Kestrelpaw, I’m too weak._

But this time, rather than feeling defeated, hate for the tom above him and for any that would threaten Kestrelpaw or any other member of WindClan surged in him. _I’ll train harder,_ he vowed. _I’ll train until no cat could get between him and me._

Brambleclaw’s weight eased, and Harespring scrambled to his paws, glowering at Brambleclaw.

“You really have to go,” Ashfoot repeated, putting herself between her Clanmate and the ThunderClan deputy. “Onestar has nothing to say to you.”

Finally, Brambleclaw nodded and turned. Harespring sagged with relief. _Maybe I did save Kestrelpaw, even if I was being a mouse-heart while doing it._ His suspicions were confirmed that night when he dreamed of the moor and Shredtail.

“Good job, Harespring,” Shredtail told him.

Remembering his failure by the border, mortification tore through him again. “But I _failed_ . Brambleclaw beat me with _one paw_.”

Shredtail dipped his head. “Yes. But you saved Kestrelpaw. And I’ll tell you a secret.” The tom leaned forward, and Harespring mirrored the action, hungry for his mentor’s words. “Brambleclaw also trained in his dreams.”

Shock flashed through Harespring. “He did?! Who trained him?”

Shredtail let out a _mrrow_ of laughter. “You won’t believe it, but… _Tigerstar_.”

“Tigerstar?!” Harespring echoed. “Like… _that_ Tigerstar?”

Shredtail shrugged. “He’s different now. We all are, after we die. And he truly did love his sons, so now that there’s no chance for him to achieve all his… other plans, he just wants to help Brambleclaw grow stronger.”

Harespring nodded. _I guess that makes sense. Even a cat as evil as Tigerstar must love his kits._ “Have you met him?”

Shredtail hesitated. “I… yes. There’s a place where we can train cats like you, but it’s not quite as nice as the moor.”

“There are more cats training than just me and Brambleclaw?” Harespring pressed.

Shredtail nodded.

“I want you to bring me there,” Harespring decided. “Even if I did save Kestrelpaw today, who knows what will happen tomorrow? I need to train more.”

For the first time, Shredtail gave him a real smile, yellowed teeth glinting in the sunlight. “I’m glad to hear it. I think you would benefit from meeting some of the other trainees too. Once you’re strong enough, maybe you could have a dream-apprentice of your own.”

“Really?” Harespring perked up. _Thistlekit, Sedgekit, and Swallowkit are so young, and I’d like to teach some cat my tricks._ “That sounds great! Wait… if Brambleclaw trains there, are there… like, cats from other Clans?”

“Of course,” Shredtail replied. “But we’re really one big Clan, I’d say. There’s no hostility between the Clans in dreams.”

_Or in StarClan, I guess._ Harespring nodded. “Then take me there.”

Shredtail waved his tail, and like the world was melting, everything seemed to droop a little. The Fourtrees and Highstones disappeared, and the blue sky turned dark. Bare trees sprung up, crowding out the starless sky, lending shade to the peaty earth underfoot. A cat’s yowl split the air.

Harespring whipped around, spotting a hill that rose up from earth a ways in front of him, tipped with a giant stump. The forms of cats writhed in battle atop it, hissing and yowling. They were hardly more than silhouettes in the dim light, forcing Harespring to slit his eyes to see. He took a tentative step toward the base of the hill, watching breathlessly. _Is that Breezepaw?!_

The dark tom flung off his opponent, a gray and white cat that Harespring immediately recognized as the ThunderClan warrior Mousewhisker. Breezepaw threw himself after him, and the two toms tussled, then finally Breezepaw got the upper paw and pinned him. Rather than stepping off him, though, Breezepaw leaned over and when he raised his head a heartbeat later, Harespring could tell that something dark stained his old denmate’s mouth.

“Welcome,” Shredtail said, coming up to stand at his shoulder, “to the Place of No Stars.”

* * *

_Shy at the start, 'til this guy named Shifty / Who had 100 pounds on me called me "Brittle Bones Nicky" /_

_How dumb I was, twenty-one / And way out of control / You're not gonna push me around / You can’t get me down-down-down_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed, please leave me a comment!


	2. In the Heart (of Battle)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harespring’s climbing the ranks in the Dark Forest. At long last, he’s becoming the tom he knows he was meant to be. But Kestrelflight isn’t impressed; instead, he presses Harespring on where those strange injuries are coming from. Harespring knows the code changing is the only way he and Kestrelflight have a shot at a life together, but the way that will happen requires Harespring to be more than just not mouse-hearted. He’s going to need to break the vow to himself, or else ruin everything he’s been working toward. Caught in the middle, Harespring feels Kestrelflight and every cat he’s ever wanted to protect sliding away from him as war comes to WindClan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the second part of Turning Tail! A reminder to check out Catch and Release if you haven't, as its second part is also released today! The third and final parts to each will be released two days from now.
> 
> Enjoy!

Harespring actually liked the Dark Forest.

He knew it was a strange opinion after hearing Antpelt, Sunstrike, and Breezepelt complain enough about the constantly slightly-wet soil, the dark sky, and the dead trees, but it was true. Despite all those features, there was something about it that appealed to Harespring. Maybe not the locale itself, but he liked being _part_ of something, something more than just his Clan. He loved the way Breezepelt would give him a little nod over the fresh-kill pile, and though Sunstrike’s pursuit of him did get a bit annoying, their natural camaraderie was also welcome. And even if most of the cats in the Dark Forest had pasts that would make a hardened warrior shiver in his nest, the idea that he could stand shoulder to shoulder with the most fearsome cats the Clans had to offer without wilting, made him swell with pride.

_I’ll be as strong as them without making the mistakes they did,_ he decided as he watched Redwillow and Shredtail tussle, snarling and ripping at each other. _I won’t be as violent or cruel, but I’ll be strong, and I’ll protect WindClan._

Shredtail pushed him hard that night.

“It’s almost time for your assessment! You’ll be shredded if you fight like that,” he mewed scornfully, dodging one of Harespring’s heavy blows. “Come on, hit me harder! Faster!”

Harespring breathed heavily, then shot forward and grabbed Shredtail by the neck. Anticipating it, Shredtail tore himself away and Harespring didn’t miss a beat as he shot forward and slammed his mentor into the ground. Shredtail’s head snapped back and hit the ground hard. Harespring felt a pang of concern but knew the tabby would probably give him a clout over the ear if he asked if he was okay. Instead, he put on the cocky persona he’d begun to adopt during these training bouts.

“You’ll have to move faster than that,” he replied, batting away Shredtail’s paws as the smaller tom tried to throw him off. “I win, I think.”

Shredtail eventually went limp and purred, a croaky, battered sound. “Well done, Harespring. As long as you pick an easy target for the assessment, you’ll be a full warrior in no time.”

_I already am,_ he thought, but didn’t voice it. Bringing up Clan ways in the Dark Forest wasn’t always a great idea. The nick in his ear pricked with the reminder.

Shredtail had given him a great deal of advice for the coming assessment. The most important part, the tabby had said, was to pick a target that Harespring knew he could defeat. He had hissed something about not embarrassing him and not letting all that training go to waste. Harespring wasn’t certain whether defeat would mean that he’d limp off with his tail between his legs or if his Clanmates would find him dead in his nest. With any luck, he wouldn’t have to find out.

He’d certainly learned that once they’d left the dream-moor, any injuries that Shredtail left him with in training would carry into the waking world. His Clanmates had begun to talk. _Thorns in the nest doesn’t work as an excuse forever._ Kestrelpaw’s eyes brimmed with worry when Harespring limped out of camp in the mornings, but Harespring refused to submit to treatment. _I wasted enough herbs in my first apprenticeship. A warrior of the Dark Forest bears his injuries with pride._

_And I’ll listen to Shredtail,_ he decided, even though it made his conscience scold him. _I’ll pick Darkstripe, maybe._ The dark tabby was cruel and skinny enough that Harespring was confident he wouldn’t feel too guilty and he wouldn’t have too much trouble beating the other tom’s head in. _Grab his neck and cut his belly when he panics,_ he reminded himself, adrenaline humming in his veins at the reminder of what he would soon need to do. He stepped off Shredtail and let his mentor scramble to his paws.

“You’ll need to finish the job next time,” the tabby growled, and tackled Harespring again.

They fought until Harespring’s entire body throbbed with pain and exhaustion. He had learned to relish it. In the moment, at least; it would be less welcome when he was patrolling with his Clanmates and trying to hide the discomfort that dogged him at every pawstep.

“Alright. Enough,” Shredtail announced, scrambling off Harespring’s back where he had been hooking his claws into the brown and white tom’s spine. “I’ll tell Brokenstar your assessment will be tomorrow night. Take it easy tomorrow, eat well before you fall asleep, and get ready for your first kill.”

_My last kill, hopefully,_ Harespring thought, but kept up the persona. “Good. I’m ready.”

Shredtail nodded once, and as Harespring lowered himself to the ground and curled up to return to the waking world, he thought he could see a gleam of pride in his mentor’s yellow gaze.

When he blinked his eyes open on the ground in WindClan’s camp, Tornear was standing over him. Harespring squinted up at the wiry tom. “Good morning…?”

“You’re hurt,” Tornear mewed, eyes sharp as they roved over Harespring’s flank.

Harespring stood, hiding his wince at the pain that rippled down his back. _Should’ve shoved Shredtail off faster when he was on my back._ “I’m fine. The humidity is just making my joints stiffen.”

“Half the Clan heard you yowl in your sleep,” Tornear retorted, blocking his ex-apprentice’s way as Harespring tried to pad over to Ashfoot to be assigned to a patrol.

“I was having a weird dream.”

“I think you should go to the medicine den,” Tornear told him, not budging.

He huffed a sigh. _I don’t want to waste their time._ But WindClan had been enjoying relative peace for the last moon or so, and Harespring figured that the herbs were probably rotting from disuse anyway. “Fine.”

Despite the acquiescence, Tornear’s concerned gaze followed Harespring across camp as the brown and white tom forced himself not to limp or cringe as pain stabbed through his pads. _Shredtail’s a rabbit-brain. Why would he unsheathe his claws in practice if he wants me to be in top form tonight?_ All the more reason to visit the medicine den, he decided, trying to reason with his pride. It wouldn’t do to have some festering wound while Darkstripe was trying to rip his guts out.

“Harespring?” Kestrelpaw’s nervous mew greeted him as he ducked into the old warren. “You’re hurt!”

_Why does he sound so surprised?_ Harespring swallowed a _mrrow_ of amusement. _This isn’t the first time._

As usual, Kestrelpaw helped him into a nest and packed in a little extra moss to make him comfortable. The routine made Harespring’s chest warm, and he blinked at the smaller tom as he worked, hoping Kestrelpaw was also thinking of the time they’d shared as apprentices.

“How’d you get these scrapes?” Kestrelpaw asked, nosing through the fur on Harespring’s spine.

“That tickles,” Harespring mewed, rumbling a purr. “I don’t remember. Maybe there’s a thorn in my nest.”

“Well, either Larkpaw’s trying to slowly kill you in your sleep or there’s something else going on,” Kestrelpaw replied, finally padding back around Harespring to look into his eyes. There was a weight in his gaze that made Harespring’s heart beat quicker. “Harespring… please be honest with me.”

“I am!” Harespring protested, guilt searing his pelt.

Kestrelpaw blinked, then let out a slow breath. “Then answer this truthfully. Are you and Breezepelt sparring together with claws unsheathed?”

“What?” Harespring faked confusion. “Like, training outside of camp? Of course not. Tornear taught me everything I needed to know moons ago.”

The other tom’s face darkened. “Really? Because you two are coming in here with similar scratches a lot lately. What’s causing it?”

“I don’t know!” Harespring lied. “We fought a dog a half-moon ago.”

Kestrelpaw scored the earth with his claws, looking more distressed than Harespring had seen him. “Harespring! These are _fresh_. If you’re getting hurt, then it’s my business as a medicine cat to know what the problem is.” When Harespring kept his jaws shut, the tom shook his head and said, “I’m worried about you.”

Harespring’s heart fluttered, but all he said was, “Don’t be. I’m fine.”

Kestrelpaw stared at him searchingly for another few heartbeats, then sighed. “Okay. I trust you.”

More guilt bubbled beneath his pelt, but he thrust it away. _Kestrelpaw just wouldn’t understand,_ he told himself. _I’m doing this for him._ And as he stood and stretched, he took silent stock of how he towered over the other tom. _I’m living up to the elders’ tales, finally._ He thought of Dustpelt and all the faceless shadows that lurked on their borders. _Nothing will hurt Kestrelpaw while I’m still breathing, whether or not it means that I have to take the hit for him._

As he padded out of the medicine den, flicking his tail to acknowledge Kestrelpaw when the apprentice called after him, reminding him to take it easy, he wondered why it was Kestrelpaw that his fears had fixed themselves on. He glanced at the nursery, where the squeaks of kits play-fighting echoed off the heather and the warm gaze of their mothers watched over them. _They’re just as defenseless… but…_ He turned his gaze back toward the rest of the camp and saw Sunstrike watching him, her green eyes warm. He forced a smile at her and flicked his tail in greeting. Nothing drew him to her the same that… _Don’t, Harespring._

He knew why it was Kestrelpaw. Why it was _always_ Kestrelpaw. But saying it, even putting it into words in his mind… that was a bad idea.

Instead, he spent the day in camp, helping the elders and fetching prey for the queens. It felt good to protect his Clanmates this way, even if it was just against pangs of hunger and the nip of a tick. _A warrior can help in more ways than just with his claws,_ he decided, thinking of Shredtail. _Maybe that’s where the Dark Forest warriors went wrong. They decided that attacking everything was the only way to keep their Clanmates safe._

Harespring was almost too excited and nervous to sleep that night, but the dull thrum of pain of his wounds and the anticipation soon guided him into darkness. He was one of the first to awaken to the dusky light of the Place of No Stars, and he hurried over to Shredtail without wasting a beat.

“Ready?” his mentor growled, the same anticipation flashing in his yellow eyes.

Harespring nodded, unsheathing his claws to tear up the earth. “When is it happening?”

“After a training exercise,” Shredtail told him. “Brokenstar wants to do another defend-the-rock game. And we’ve got a few new Clanmates.”

Harespring tried not to be too pleased that Shredtail was already treating him like a full warrior. Usually he would’ve been given a vague ‘you’ll see,’ but that would change tonight permanently. _I wonder who the new Clanmates are._

Breezepelt, Minnowtail, and Sunstrike introduced the three new apprentices from their Clans, Furzepaw, Hollowpaw, and Larkpaw, and Harespring felt a flash of pride that WindClan had two more cats training in the Place of No Stars. _They’ll be able to protect their less-trained Clanmates too, soon enough._ Brokenstar himself introduced another; a square-shouldered tortoiseshell, Blossomfall.

Harespring watched his ThunderClan Clanmates, curious if they’d be proud to have a new cat as well. Mousewhisker and Birchfall waved their tails to greet her, while Ivypool, the longest ThunderClan cat to have been training in the Dark Forest, looked horrified. _Angry to have to share the attention?_ He guessed. _Or maybe they just don’t get along._

“We’re glad to have you all,” Brokenstar rumbled, and Harespring squared his shoulders as the leader cast his gaze over them. _Good. Larkpaw and Furzepaw will see me become a full warrior._ He shot the two small littermates a friendly glance.

They began to split up to start the training exercises, and as Shredtail had said, the WindClan trainees were assigned to a defend-the-rock exercise. Maggottail, one of the oldest and most dangerous spirits, began on the rock, and Harespring thought with a pang of worry that he’d rather not win; it would mean taking Maggottail’s place, and then trying to fend off all the other warriors, Maggottail included. _Can’t even hook your claws into his pelt; he’s missing too much fur,_ he thought, trying to comfort himself with a joke. The humour leached out of it when Maggottail’s cold, colourless gaze landed on him. There was nothing at all behind his eyes. Harespring shook out his own thick pelt and bunched his haunches, waiting for Shredtail’s call.

“Begin!” the tabby yowled, and Harespring struck first.

He leapt directly at Maggottail’s patchy flank, trying to finish the fight in a heartbeat by knocking the tom off, but Maggottail spun, light and quick as a breeze, and then plowed one square paw into Harespring’s jaw so hard that the younger tom saw stars. _But there aren’t any stars here,_ he thought as he was flung to the ground, then scrambled to his paws, shaking his head hard to clear it.

Breezepelt hissed and tackled Maggottail, who threw him off without much difficulty and turned his ice-cold gaze on the two apprentices who were clambering up the rock. He slammed a white, translucent paw onto Furzepaw’s head and the apprentice tumbled to the earth. Larkpaw saw an opening and leapt at Maggottail with her sheathed paws outstretched. Maggottail grabbed her out of the air and drove her onto the stone, planted a paw on her neck, and shot forward like a striking snake with his near-transparent jaws open to finish it.

“Stop!” Shredtail yowled.

A chill, colder than leaf-bare, swept over Harespring as he watched Maggottail slowly remove his paw from Larkpaw’s neck to allow the she-cat to scramble away. She did, half-dazed and wide-eyed with terror.

Shredtail shouldered past the hissing Breezepelt and the two shocked apprentices, jumped up beside Maggottail, and growled, “What are you doing? Don’t kill the recruits; have you forgotten what Brokenstar told you last time?”

_Last time…?_ Harespring couldn’t help stepping back. It was all well and good to feel strong and scary standing next to such cats, but the reminder of the abject cruelty that ran deep within some of them made his chest tighten. _Shredtail_ never _intervenes. He nearly broke my leg once, and only stopped when I shoved him off._ He stared at Maggottail.

“I got carried away,” Maggottail said, his voice breathy and insubstantial as always. The excuse came out flat and unconvincing, and Shredtail cast the other tom a long, dark look, then jumped off the rock. Maggottail turned, and that pale gaze met Harespring’s. _What if Shredtail hadn’t stopped him?_ But it was a mouse-brained question when looking into those eyes. _He would have killed her. An apprentice, less than a moon out of the nursery. That’s not protecting your Clanmates, that’s just evil._

And despite the strength and speed of a fox that Harespring knew Maggottail possessed, he had changed his mind about who he would fight tonight.

_He won’t protect his Clanmates, but I will,_ Harespring thought, tearing his gaze away from Maggottail and looking instead at poor, shivering Larkpaw. _I’m not going to find out what will happen if Shredtail isn’t there next time. If I have to kill my ‘Clanmates’ to protect my real Clanmates, then I will._

“Remember,” Shredtail murmured as the trainees assembled beneath their seniors to get ready to watch the assessments taking place tonight, “pick someone you can beat.”

Harespring gave him a nod, and tight fear coiled in his stomach. He felt a little ill as he swept his gaze over the fading shadows and the excited Clan cats. _This is the moment,_ he thought, finally landing on Darkstripe, who was standing next to Maggottail. _This is when I prove myself more than a mouse-heart, and prove that I won’t stand by and watch some flea-bag hurt Kestrelpaw._

Or any of his Clanmates, he thought, looking at Larkpaw. _This is it._

Sunstrike stepped forward quickly, brushing her pelt with his. “You’ve got this,” she whispered, almost sounding as if she was trying to assure herself. He gave her a stiff nod, and she withdrew.

“Harespring!” Brokenstar yowled from his position at the very top of the jagged cliff that the cats were gathered beneath. “Is it your wish to become a true Clanmate of the Dark Forest, to fight for us against any enemy and to never hesitate to deliver a killing blow?”

He’d heard the not-ceremony’s words a few times before; Breezepelt, for one, had been named a ‘full’ warrior a half-moon before despite being younger than Harespring. Never before had he felt like this listening to them, though. As if he was being marched towards his death. _For Larkpaw. And for Kestrelpaw._ The thought of Maggottail’s empty gaze landing on the black and white tom made Harespring’s mew ring with conviction when he said, “It is.”

Brokenstar’s mouth split into a broken-toothed grin. “Then… pick your opponent.”

Harespring let his gaze sweep over the assembled cats. Shredtail gave him a meaningful stare, and he dipped his head to his mentor. Darkstripe caught his gaze and drew back his lips in a hint of a snarl, but Harespring’s eyes skipped over him. _This is it._

“Maggottail of the Place of No Stars,” Harespring growled.

Shredtail’s eyes widened, horrified, and the patchy white tom peeled away from the other leaders, expression unreadable. Brokenstar raised his chin, seeming a little impressed. Or maybe amused at Harespring’s foolish choice. Breezepelt had killed Applefrost, a spirit that had died when she was hardly more than a warrior. Sunstrike had picked out a target in Redstar, who was muscular and senior, but had died when he was so old that Harespring had no doubt Sunstrike wouldn’t have too much difficulty snapping his neck when her time came.

Harespring wasn’t so much choosing an opponent as he was a means of a particularly swift death. Maggottail’s transparent body echoed a long forgotten cat, too large and lean to really be called a cat. His soul, as well as his colouration had been sapped away by the darkness of the forest.

“Very well,” Brokenstar said, his raspy mew dropping low. “Then Maggottail, come forward.” The words were perfunctory; the spirit had already padded to stand across the wet clearing from Harespring. “The fight will be to the death. Harespring, we hope that you prove yourself. On my mark.”

Harespring surveyed the watching cats, breath fluttering in his throat like a trapped bird. Larkpaw was watching with those same round amber eyes, Breezepelt merely cocked his head with interest, and Shredtail looked on the verge of yowling for him to stop like he had during the rock exercise. But Harespring had made his choice, and would look like a mouse-heart if he tried to back down now. Finally, his gaze came to rest on Maggottail.

Maggottail stood unnaturally still. No hair on his pelt ruffled, no light glinted in his eyes, just… stillness. He watched Harespring.

“Begin,” Brokenstar growled.

_Get the first hit._

Harespring threw himself at Maggottail, breaking into a sprint as he crossed the distance between them, and dragged the white tom to the ground.

_You can’t protect anyone by waiting for the other cat to strike._

Maggottail struck like a flash of white lightning, tearing a red stripe across Harespring’s shoulder. He had narrowly missed the throat.

_Toms should be big, brave, and strong._ The echo of Shredtail’s advice began to blend with elders’ tales as pain ripped through him.

Harespring shouldered the skinnier tom off him, ignoring the sparks of agony ignited when his fur tore, then struck his side as hard as he could with both forepaws. The attempt to shove him off balance failed, and Maggottail pounced on him like he was a piece of prey.

_Remember what’s on the line._

He tried to think of Larkpaw as pain made his vision swing. Knowing Maggottail was a heartbeat from finishing him, he lashed out again and drove Maggottail back before the other tom could snap his jaws around his throat.

“You can’t save him,” Maggottail rasped, so softly Harespring still thought it was an echo of something else at first.

He rained blows on Maggottail’s head, who tucked himself into a roll and sprung to his paws again immediately. He didn’t seem at all fazed by the battering Harespring had been hoping to unleash.

“What?!” he snapped, throwing himself forward again.

Maggottail met him with a staggering back-kick, spinning so fast Harespring hardly understood what was happening until he was flung backward and rolled, tail over muzzle. Pain ricocheted through his chest, knocking the wind out of him.

“That little apprentice,” Maggottail whispered as he leapt on Harespring again.

“Shredtail will keep Larkpaw safe,” Harespring growled, raking Maggottail’s belly with his backlegs even as Maggottail’s blows to his face made his ears ring.

“Not her.”

Kestrelpaw.

Cold water surged up to freeze Harespring’s heart as he came nose-to-nose with Maggottail, who had paused shredding him to watch, still and silent, the effect the words had on him.

_Kestrelpaw._

_Always Kestrelpaw._

_He’s coming to hurt Kestrelpaw._

So even as his muzzle stung, his eyes blurred, his ears rang— _Everything is to save him._ He grabbed Maggottail’s throat, both front paws hooking into either side of his neck, and surged up so hard and fast that they rolled. The momentum made them switch positions putting Harespring atop Maggottail, who was flat on his back. Maggottail’s empty eyes widened.

Harespring slammed Maggottail’s head into the earth. Beneath the rush of blood in his ears, he heard a crack. He pulled him up and slammed him down again. Another soft crack. Then again. Until Harespring’s claws were glinting in the air, unsheathed and rearing up over and over again, bringing nothing but empty air with them.

“Harespring!”

He did not know whether it was Brokenstar, Shredtail, Larkpaw, or Sunstrike who had called out the first greeting. But within a heartbeat, every Clanmate took up the cheer. His name rang through the trees, echoing off the stone of the cliff and through the black sky.

He finally stopped and lowered his head, panting. _It’s over. It’s finally over._ He tilted his head back and let out a long, shivering yowl. Without missing a beat, his _Clanmates_ , every filthy spirit in this starless place added their voice to his. As his dropped to a mournful groan, shaking with the pain of the wounds Maggottail had inflicted, they drowned him out.

“Harespring,” Shredtail said, bounding over to him with glowing eyes.

He let out a low, rusty purr, and ducked his head. “You’re not angry that I picked him?”

Shredtail snorted. “I thought you were crowfood for a heartbeat there, but the leaders will be so impressed that my apprentice killed one of the oldest spirits here. Or, my ex-apprentice, I should say.”

The feeling of his claws in Maggottail’s pelt, of the tom’s soft voice in his ear was too sudden and recent for him to keep up the persona. _He’s dead,_ he told himself. _He’s dead and I’m not._ It wasn’t enough to keep back the chill that had settled over his pelt.

“You should sleep now,” Shredtail said. “I’m sure you’ll be invited to one of the leaders’ meetings soon, but… for now, enjoy the memory of your first kill.”

“Wait,” Harespring rasped.

Shredtail paused, about to turn away, then flicked his tail. “Yes?”

“He knew about Kestrelpaw. How did he know?”

“Ah.” Shredtail shrugged. “The leaders know why every cat is here. Kestrelpaw is the reason you’re here. We need trained cats to get ready to change things for the better, and we need them to want it.”

“Change things…?” Harespring shook his head. “I just want to be stronger.”

“To protect Kestrelpaw,” Shredtail finished for him, then thrust his muzzle closer to Harespring. “Mottlepaw made me a better warrior. They killed her because the code wouldn’t stop them, so I killed them. Every battle I was in, I found a cat—apprentice, warrior, deputy, didn’t matter—and I slashed their throat. Until the forest knew my name and knew what I would do to them. You have a chance I didn’t have; to _be_ with Kestrelpaw.”

Harespring wanted to flinch away at Shredtail’s implications, but he found himself rooted to the ground.

“But the code would stop you,” he growled. “Because of some cat you’ll never meet, in a world that was nothing like ours, _thousands_ ,” he spat, “of moons ago… you’ll have nothing with him. And one day, you’ll both be dead. And even _then_ , StarClan will watch and judge as you cross paths.”

Harespring hardly dared breathe at the suggestion. _But StarClan is..._

“Kestrelpaw makes you a better warrior,” Shredtail murmured, finally relaxing the intensity of his gaze as his voice neared a purr. “Kestrelpaw is the reason I brought you here. And if you support us, if we _win_ , and we _change_ things… then you will be together.”

Harespring was no longer under any illusions of the ‘prophecies’ Shredtail may have foreseen, but his words and the world they created were so… _needed_ , like fresh-kill to some starved part of his soul.

“You want to change the code,” Harespring breathed.

“Yes,” was all Shredtail said, flicking his tail.

A thousand whirling contradictions set upon Harespring like a flock of crows, but at the end of each was an understanding. _Whatever it takes to protect him._ And further than that… _Whatever it takes to be with him._ Shredtail’s yellow gaze was steady, and Harespring met it, unflinching.

“Good,” Harespring said.

_In the Heart (of Battle)_

Things changed for Harespring in the Dark Forest.

Some ways, it was obvious; more faceless spirits ducked their heads when he cast his gaze over them, he was invited to leaders’ meetings, and Shredtail fought beside him rather than against him.

There were subtler changes too, though. As if a dam had broken, Breezepelt’s trust in him flooded forth. Within a half-moon, Harespring knew all about Crowfeather’s half-Clan kits, Leafpool, the presumed-dead Hollyleaf, and Lionblaze, whom Breezepelt insisted on comparing himself to at every turn. Privately, Harespring thought he was making him miserable. Sunstrike, too, grew closer to him, much to his chagrin. He knew she had ideas about what their relationship would be after she killed Redstar, but he couldn’t bring himself to disillusion her. _Happiness is in short supply,_ he thought, _and if a battle really is coming, then why not let her be happy now?_

The other Dark Forest ‘warriors’ who were still alive treated him with a great deal more familiarity as well. He went with Minnowtail and Beetlewhisker when they skipped training to ‘hunt,’ which ended up being very difficult given the only prey was skeletal and indistinct, but resulted in unexpected fun all the same. They really did feel like Clanmates, some nights. Most of them, anyway; Ivypool, the scarred silver and white she-cat and Tigerheart, the handsome tabby watched him with bleak gazes. He met Ivypool’s and thought of Antpelt. He didn’t know who Tigerheart had killed, but the tom was equally guilty.

Perhaps that was part of why there was an unexpected bond between the warriors. He looked at Minnowtail and remembered how she’d dragged the scrawny black tom, Houndleap, to the edge of the oily waters. Houndleap had been snarling all the way, but just before she plunged him beneath the waves, he had shrieked. Then he hadn’t made any sound at all. Even as they joked and talked, failing to catch the not-prey, he saw darkness in her amber gaze. Beetlewhisker, too, had followed Minnowtail’s example and drowned Rushtooth.

He remembered how Minnowtail had slunk out of the lapping waters, her beautiful pelt soaked and stained dark, with dripping scratches littered across it. He remembered the shadows in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.

The nights wore on and after another round of ceremonies, no cat seemed to remember Harespring’s fight with Maggottail. Harespring wouldn’t forget, he knew. At night, Brokenstar spoke of changing the Clans through batte, and during the day, Onestar and Sol spoke of revenge on ThunderClan. Revenge, always revenge, Harespring thought. It seemed to him like there were enough wrongs and hurts in the world for any cat to just pick a target and make up a reason later.

Kestrelflight earned his name, but when Harespring tried to visit him to congratulate him, the medicine cat took the opportunity to fuss over his wounds. Harespring sighed. It seemed like he never completely healed, and he didn’t want this kind of attention from Kestrelflight. But the harder he fought in the Dark Forest, the more they threw at him. _I just have to hope the battle comes soon._

The first battle, with ThunderClan, erupted a moon later. Harespring fought shoulder to shoulder with Breezepelt, tearing their way through ThunderClan’s ranks. They were used to fighting without the sky above, and they passed Birchfall and Mousewhisker without touching them. Breezepelt threw himself at Ivypool, while Harespring picked out his own target. Dustpelt wasn’t part of the fight, but Brambleclaw was and Harespring felt a cold thrill when he realized they were now evenly matched.

He swiped, Brambleclaw ducked, leapt, and they rolled. Then Brambleclaw swiped, Harespring ducked, kicked, and they repeated. Harespring cringed when he heard Onestar’s yowl to retreat, and tore himself free of Brambleclaw. The tabby tom didn’t crow with victory, though; just panted and watched Harespring slink away with his Clanmates. He wondered if he’d used a move that Brambleclaw had recognized; Shredtail had said Brambleclaw was an old trainee, hadn’t he?

Birchfall apologized to them that night when he noticed Harespring’s fresh wounds. Harespring brushed it off; what was another injury?

The second battle didn’t come until much later.

Before it came, Antpelt was found bloody and still in his nest. Kestrelflight was horrified, Sunstrike heartbroken, and Harespring silently tried to forget the way that Thistleclaw’s fangs has fastened themselves in Antpelt’s belly.

Kestrelflight asked Harespring to move his nest to the medicine den. Harespring complied, a little confused, and woke up to see Kestrelflight watching him silently, paws tucked under his chest. Shredtail had demonstrated a move on him for the benefit of the apprentices, and had slipped and scratched Harespring’s belly. It was shallow, but he felt a little wet warmth under him in his nest.

“Harespring,” Kestrelflight breathed, getting to his paws. The den seemed oddly quiet without the sounds of the moor. Harespring wondered faintly how Kestrelflight could stand it.

“Why did you want me in here?” Harespring asked, hiding a grimace as he shifted.

“You’re hurt,” the tom whispered, his eyes rounding as he took in the blood that stained Harespring’s chest.

“It’s not deep,” Harespring assured him, trying not to meet that insistent stare.

Kestrelflight let out a soft cry as Harespring revealed his white belly. _Red_ belly would be more accurate. When the medicine cat didn’t move, Harespring cocked his head.

“Should I clean it…?”

“How did you get hurt in your sleep?” Kestrelflight breathed, shaking his head. “I don’t understand. First Antpelt, and now...”

Harespring shifted again, then regretted it. “I’m okay.”

Kestrelflight looked miserable and confused. “You’re _not_ ; you keep getting hurt and I just don’t understand how! You look like you’ve been fighting stoats, but I watched all night—”

“What?” Harespring flinched. _What did he see?_ “Why would you do that?”

“Because I _care_ ,” Kestrelflight said, his voice breaking. “Because you keep getting hurt and it’s my job to heal you. Because…” He swallowed hard. “What is happening to you? Please, Harespring, please… please tell me.”

Harespring faltered. _Can I tell him?_ He remembered Shredtail’s words. _He’s the reason I’m there._

“Okay,” Harespring mumbled.

A sigh of relief broke out of Kestrelflight and the tom nearly collapsed in front of him, settling down to listen.

“I’m…” Harespring hesitated. _How much should I tell him? Should I mention Breezepelt and Sunstrike? Antpelt…?_ He knew the pain that Antpelt’s untimely death had caused the medicine cat. Would he feel better if he knew what had happened? “There’s a group of Clan cats that train in their dreams.”

Kestrelflight’s eyes widened. “With their claws unsheathed?”

The question almost provoked a snort in him, thinking of how much more vicious fights got than just ‘with claws unsheathed.’ “Yes. We’re training to… to be strong enough to change things.”  
Kestrelflight frowned. “What things?”  
Harespring swallowed. _I guess this is why Shredtail spent so long with me. It sounds a bit hare-brained to just come out with it._ “To change the code.”

He drew in a sharp breath, flinching away from Harespring. “What?! Why?”

Harespring leaned forward, ignoring the searing pain when his belly stretched. “Because it’s old and it’s… imperfect.” He searched Kestrelflight’s gaze, urging him to understand. “You said you care, that it was your job to heal me. These injuries are an irritation; I’ll heal, maybe some of them will scar, but I’ll be okay. What hurts me more than anything that could happen to my pelt is that…”

He trailed off, looking for any sign that Kestrelflight would be amenable to the confession that seared his tongue.

“Don’t you understand…?” Harespring whispered. “I need _you_ , Kestrelflight.”

“The Clan needs me,” Kestrelflight said, voice wavering. “Harespring… don’t… I can’t…”

_He can’t._ Harespring shook his head and pulled back, heart thrumming like a hunted rabbit. “I know, I know. Because of the _code_ , but how would having a family change your dedication to WindClan? I don’t want to stop you from helping cats. You’re…” He was too close to the core of his feelings, and he took a pained breath, trying to rein himself in. “I just want things to be different,” he finished lamely.

Kestrelflight closed his eyes. “But they’re _not_.”

“They _can_ be,” Harespring urged him. “The code hasn’t always been the way it is, and it doesn’t always have to be. We’ll change things.”  
“You should go,” Kestrelflight whispered, still not looking at him. “I… come back if you get hurt. I’m sorry, I can’t…”

“I know you can’t,” Harespring breathed, then before he could think better of it, he pressed his muzzle to Kestrelflight’s, stood, and limped out of the den. In the dawn light, his head reeled. _What just happened?_ He had half a mind to dash back in and tell Kestrelflight exactly what he meant, just to clear things up. _Did he… he said he can’t. Not that he doesn’t…_

Was he doing the same thing as Sunstrike? Making up moments and twisting words to find a more favourable meaning in them, or did Kestrelflight really return his feelings? _I’ll give him the chance,_ he decided. _Shredtail and all of the Dark Forest… we’ll change things, and then he’ll be able to choose. And I’ll take his answer, but not before he even has the option._ His heart beat loudly in his throat as he couldn’t help turning over Kestrelflight’s words, again and again, before throwing himself into the day to distract himself.

And yet, the same logic circulated his head, even as Sunstrike tried to strike up a conversation, even as pain throbbed through his belly, even as he missed prey and wandered too close to the border. _He can’t. But I have the power to make it so that he_ can _, if he wants to. Does he want to? Does he want me? He said he cares. But he cares about all of WindClan. Because he’s loving, and thoughtful, and dedicated, and—_

“What are you thinking about?” It was Sunstrike.

Harespring snapped out of it, blinking. “What?”

“You were purring,” she said, blinking warmly at him. “What are you thinking about?”

“Uh, Sedgewhisker’s kits,” he lied.

“They’re so cute, right?!” Sunstrike exclaimed, her tail curling up. “I’d really like to have kits some day. Once, you know…” She waved her tail, side-eyeing Weaselfur, who was leading their patrol. “Things have settled down a bit.”

Harespring nodded, already thinking of Kestrelflight again. “I’m sure you’d make a great mother.”

The look Sunstrike shot him made him think better of his words. _Oops. Well, I can’t exactly say ‘Just as long as it’s not with me’ now._ He pulled his gaze away and looked straight ahead, flushing with embarrassment. _Great job, Harespring. So much for letting her be happy; now you’re just setting her up for heartbreak._

That night, Brokenstar called a meeting of the senior Dark Forest warriors; Breezepelt was invited to represent WindClan, which made Harespring’s pelt bristle with irritation. _He’s_ younger _than me!_ Shredtail seemed equally irritated by his ex-apprentice being passed over, but said nothing and disappeared into the thorny den with the others. Though Brokenstar had called for Beetlewhisker to join them as RiverClan’s representative—a choice which made Minnowtail’s gaze flash with the same annoyance that Harespring felt—the brown and white tom was nowhere to be found, and Applefur, Ivypool, Breezepelt, and the Dark Forest spirits appeared to begin their meeting without him.

Harespring paced in the clearing, brushing off Sunstrike’s attempts to engage him in a play-fight, and strained to hear what they were discussing. The thick air seemed to soak up any sound, though, and he could only hear the faint murmur of their voices. Finally, another warrior appeared in the clearing, jumping to his paws the moment his pelt solidified.

“Sorry, sorry, I know I’m late!” Beetlewhisker gasped, then glanced around. “Where are they?”

“Brokenstar wants you to be part of the meeting,” Harespring growled, stalking over to his Clanmate. “You’re representing RiverClan, although I bet he’ll replace you after this.”

Beetlewhisker scowled at him, then hurried into the bush.

Minnowtail twitched her whiskers at Harespring, stretching lazily. “Serves him right. I make sure I’m never on Gathering patrol if I know there’s something important going on here.”

“Brokenstar should’ve chosen us to represent our Clans,” Harespring muttered, scoring the earth as he thought of Breezepelt’s smug face. “Breezepelt’s going to make all the same mistakes as every cat here who failed.”

Minnowtail’s amber gaze sharpened as she examined him. “And you won’t?”

Harespring shook his head. “I’m not a mouse-brain. I know that violence isn’t always the answer, and I want to change things for the _better_ , not just get petty revenge on some cat that wronged me.”

She cocked her head. “Is that true? What about Maggottail?”

_So not every cat’s forgotten,_ he thought, his hackles rising slightly. _Careful, Minnowtail, I know we were friendly, but…_ “That wasn’t revenge. I was protecting Larkwing. He tried to kill her, Minnowtail, when she was just an apprentice.”

No hint of surprise lit her gaze. She just nodded. “I see. And you think you’re different from Breezepelt because…?”

“He wants revenge,” Harespring snapped. “I want to protect my Clanmates.”

“Protect them from your other _Clanmates_.” The sarcasm that coated Minnowtail’s voice as she flicked her tail toward the thorn bush full of Dark Forest spirits made him think she shared his skepticism of the actual camaraderie between the living cats and the Dark Forest cats.

“Why are you here?” he demanded. _Why’s she so nosy?_

She shrugged. “To get stronger.”

“Yeah, right.” He narrowed his eyes, trying to remember what she’d told him. She was gregarious and extroverted, but managed to reveal remarkably little about _herself_ with all that conversation.

“I think the meeting’s over,” Minnowtail said, looking away from Harespring quickly. Her eyes widened suddenly and she leaned forward, scenting the air. “I smell blood!”

It wasn’t unusual; there was always some cat with an injury, but this was different. More pervasive, stronger, and… _That’s the scent of death._ “Great StarClan…” he breathed without thinking. _I hope it wasn’t Breezepelt._

Hawkfrost, a cat whose pale eyes reminded Harespring of Maggottail, emerged with a cat’s limp body between his teeth. _That’s Beetlewhisker!_ Horror filled Harespring. _Did they kill him for being late?_ The earth seemed to sway beneath his paws. _I just spoke to him… he was just…_

“No…” Minnowtail whispered, eyes rounding as Hawkfrost padded underneath the cliff and dropped Beetlewhisker’s corpse. Brokenstar and the other spirits of the Dark Forest returned from the bush as well, with Applefur, Ivypool, and Breezepelt trailing them. Applefur looked terrified, Ivypool looked resigned, and Breezepelt’s eyes flashed with malicious glee.

Brokenstar leapt atop the cliff, and yowled to get their attention. It wasn’t necessary; at the sight of a corpse, the eyes of every cat in the clearing turned to him, waiting for explanation. “Clanmates!” he began, voice rattling like wind through a dead tree’s branches. Harespring couldn’t help noticing how his already-dark fur was stained darker around his muzzle. “A traitor was found among us. Beetlewhisker of RiverClan was no true Clanmate of ours; he was a mouse-heart, and proved his vow to fight our enemies a _lie_.”

_A mouse-heart._ The words struck something buried within Harespring. He shivered, unable to look away from Beetlewhisker’s limp body.

“We have nothing to fear from him now,” Hawkfrost mewed contemptuously. Shredtail stood at his shoulder, and Harespring stared at his mentor. _How could he let this happen?_

“This is your reminder to keep your eyes and ears open,” Brokenstar growled. “The poison of cowardice runs deep, and no cat can be considered truly loyal until they have proved themselves in blood.”

_But Beetlewhisker did,_ Harespring thought, finding himself unable to swallow. _He killed Rushtooth, and it wasn’t enough. Brokenstar isn’t telling us that we have to pass our ‘assessments,’ he’s telling us that there’s no way to be truly loyal other than to never make a mistake._ Death was traded in freely in the Dark Forest, but it was easy to forget when the target was usually half-faded, faceless spirits, or when Shredtail was promising him that Antpelt’s death was a terrible accident. Looking at Beetlewhisker’s unseeing gaze now, the severity slammed back into Harespring. _That wasn’t a training exercise gone wrong. That was an execution. We’re all on thin ice._

Shredtail met him after the meeting with cold eyes. Harespring met his mentor’s gaze wordlessly as the tom slipped past him, then doubled back to put his muzzle to Harespring’s ear.

“Remember what Brokenstar said,” Shredtail murmured.

Harespring stared straight ahead, something burning in him at the implicit threat. _Aren’t we beyond that?_ “I’m not a mouse-heart anymore.”

Shredtail didn’t move. “I know. Just remember who made you that way.”

_In the Heart (of Battle)_

WindClan was preparing for war.

Kestrelflight seemed more and more on edge, refusing to meet Harespring’s gaze and making up excuses when the warrior tried to speak with him. The only thing that kept Harespring afloat was knowing that once the Dark Forest won, they would have all the time in the world to talk. Kestrelflight would understand, surely? Harespring would wait for him.

Furzepelt and Whiskerpaw were assigned to be messengers to the other Clans. Heathertail, Leaftail and Gorsetail were sent to RiverClan, while Boulderfur, Whitetail, and Owlwhisker left camp to join ThunderClan in their fight.

Harespring’s paws thrummed with anticipation. The Dark Forest warriors would arrive soon. Harespring had decided he would only fight to save his Clanmates; minimizing casualties was the best way to make sure Kestrelflight understood after the battle. _The Dark Forest just has to win; as long as no WindClan cats die in the conflict, everything will be alright._

Whitewing, Berrynose and Hazeltail arrived as the sun began to set. Harespring watched the gray and white she-cat as she surveyed the WindClan camp with curious green eyes. Memories of fighting her swept over him, then a second wave of memories of fighting her brother in the Dark Forest. _Does she know Mousewhisker is a trainee? How much did Jayfeather and Firestar tell their Clan?_

He almost pitied her. If only he could explain to every Clan cat in turn why it would be better if the Dark Forest had the chance to change the code... but there wasn’t time, and too many would argue. The blunt instrument of battle seemed to be the obvious next choice.

As every cat paced the camp, fur standing on end and claws flexing, Harespring felt oddly calm. This had been so long coming that now that it was finally upon them, it evoked very little in him. It felt more like a season changing than a bloody conflict. _A fight will happen. Cats will get hurt. The Dark Forest will win. The code will change. Kestrelflight will choose._

He closed his eyes. _StarClan forgive me. I don’t think you’ve always done the best thing for the Clans. Is it any wonder I wanted another way?_

He opened his eyes when he heard the first yowl.

It was Molepaw, a ThunderClan apprentice, skidding into camp with wild eyes. “They’re attacking! They’re coming!”

And then Harespring heard the pawsteps. They drummed on the moor like torrential rain, a storm approaching until the gorse barrier was nearly flattened as dozens of dark pelts spilled into the WindClan camp. _Here we go,_ he thought, and looked for a target.

Shredtail had told him to slip away at the first chance he got to attack ThunderClan, knowing they had some kind of secret weapon that the Dark Forest would need all its strength to beat, but he questioned that judgement. _The whole point of this is not to accept things blindly if we think we know a better way,_ he decided. _Shredtail isn't my mentor anymore; I don’t have to listen to him._ His pelt prickled as he thought of the last brown and white tom that had gone against the Dark Forest. _But I have my Clanmates around me. Even Breezepelt would shred him if he tried to kill me for disobeying, wouldn’t he?_

Then he saw him.

The small dark tabby was wrestling with Tornear, snarling and tearing his claws through the warrior with more viciousness than Tornear could muster behind his strikes. His old mentor’s virility of youth had long since waned. For a heartbeat, Harespring stiffened. _No, he’s not…_ Then Shredtail grabbed his mentor by the throat. _This is why he didn’t want me in camp._ Harespring took off running and leapt at the smaller tom.

Too late.

Shredtail struck out, one skinny, scarred paw hooking under Tornear’s gray belly and sliding right up to his chest. Blood, so dark it was almost black, followed his claws. Tornear opened his jaws to gasp, but nothing came out except more blood, then he tumbled to the moor, limp.

There was a heartbeat of silence as Shredtail breathed heavily, standing over Tornear’s body, and Harespring hung in the air, paws outstretched, unable to believe how quickly it had been over for Tornear.

“No, no, no!” Harespring growled, tackling Shredtail, anger pulsing through him. “Why did you kill him!? We’re supposed to build a better Clan, not _slaughter_ every cat!”

Shredtail rolled with him, his yellow eyes wide. “What—I told you to go to ThunderClan!”

“Well, it turns out telling a tom to question what he’s told leads him to question what you tell him!” Harespring snarled, swiping at Shredtail. His duck wasn’t quick enough, and Harespring sent him skidding away with the force of the blow. A thousand dream-spars echoed in his mind, but this—this was different. This was about more than getting strong.

Shredtail shook his head to clear it as Harespring jumped on him again. Thorn-sharp claws hooked into his pelt, and Harespring thrust away the old throb of panic that closed in on him at the pain. “It’s not about just changing the code,” Shredtail hissed, battering Harespring’s belly.

“I know,” Harespring whispered, ripping himself free of his ex-mentor and staring at him. Finally, as if fog had cleared in sunlight, he saw the scarred tabby for what he was. A cruel, hateful tom that covered his bloodlust in clever lies about improving life. _He just wants to kill more cats,_ Harespring realized, recognizing the inferno in Shredtail’s eyes. The same one that flared when he spoke of Mottlepaw. _He uses her death as a shallow excuse for getting his kicks from hurting others. Like Tornear._ Misery swamped him as he glanced at his old mentor’s body. _But there’s no time to mourn. I have to stop Shredtail before he hurts anyone else. He said he was from a time before the code about not killing others in battle_ — _well, we’ll see how he likes it when I don’t spare him._

And Harespring threw himself at Shredtail again, striking out with intent to kill. Instead of defending himself, Shredtail skittered backward like an insect. Harespring bit of a growl. _No! I need to hurt him; I need to avenge Tornear!_

“Don’t do this, Harespring. You’re nothing without us,” Shredtail hissed, dodging away as Harespring swiped at him again. “I made you strong, and I can take it all away from you again.”

Harespring felt his legs tremble with the sheer force of his hatred. _He lied to me. He lied to all of us. He just wants more targets._ “No. You said yourself that I could surpass you one day, and I _have_. I’ll kill you for what you did to Tornear.”

Shredtail rumbled a laugh and Harespring dug his claws into the earth, preparing to leap onto him and tear his pelt off. “No, you won’t.” Then he raised his voice. “Sparrowfeather! Darkstripe! Kill the medicine cat, in the badger’s warren there!”

Harespring’s blood turned to ice as Shredtail drew his lips back in a venomous smile. “Good luck.” Then he turned and fled.

It took Harespring less than a heartbeat to make his decision. Darkstripe’s silver and black pelt and Sparrowfeather’s dark form were already streaking across camp toward it, and Shredtail was halfway to the camp’s entrance. _He thinks I’m different, and he’s right,_ he thought. _Hunt Shredtail down and kill him, or protect Kestrelflight…? He knows what decision I’ll make. But it’s not because I’m a mouse-heart._

Then he turned tail and sprinted toward the medicine den, easily outpacing the two Dark Forest warriors. He turned, squared his shoulders, and met Darkstripe with a blow hard enough to send the smaller tom sprawling. Sparrowfeather leapt on him, hissing, and Harespring kicked her off.

“Harespring?” Kestrelflight’s trembling voice came from behind him.

“Not a great time to talk,” Harespring gasped, lashing out at Darkstripe with a blow that would have blinded him if Darkstripe hadn’t lurched away. The Dark Forest warrior took one look at the way Harespring raked his claws down Sparrowfeather’s flank and dashed away to find a new target. _Mouse-heart,_ Harespring thought, and then dug his claws into Sparrowfeather’s leg.

She yowled, then reared up and slammed her paws onto his head. Blinking away the dizziness, he thrust himself forward and headbutted her in the soft of her belly. She tumbled back, then leapt to her paws, hissing, and fixed her gaze on something behind Harespring.

He raised a paw, prepared to strike her down if she tried to attack him again, but instead, quick as a fish, she slipped right past him into the den. Kestrelflight yelped, and Harespring spun to see him recoiling, trying to bat away Sparrowfeather’s bludgeoning strikes with clumsy paws that were far more suited to sorting herbs. Protective fury filled Harespring, brighter and hotter than any cold anger ignited by Shredtail’s murder of Tornear, and Harespring shot at Sparrowfeather.

“ _Get away from him!_ ” he snarled, and bowled her over, pinning her to the floor of the den. Kestrelflight yelped, backpedalling away from them. She hissed and reached to try to swipe at his face. He slammed her paw to the ground with enough force that her leg cracked and she squealed.

“You should be following Shredtail’s orders,” she hissed, her back legs raking his stomach as she struggled beneath him.

“And you should get out of this den before I send you to whatever afterlife comes after the Dark Forest,” he spat, yanking her to her paws with one hooked claw. She stumbled, and he forced her toward the entrance. “Go! Now! And don’t touch another hair on the pelts of my Clanmates.”

With a last baleful look, Sparrowfeather left the den. Harespring watched her go, breathing hard, then turned to Kestrelflight, horror filling him when he saw a welling scratch on the other tom’s brow. He suddenly wished he’d taken an extra heartbeat to claw Sparrowfeather.

“You’re hurt,” Harespring whispered, his voice feeling very weak all of a sudden.

“So are you,” Kestrelflight said, then shook his head. “Oh, Harespring, what have you done?”

“Protected you,” he said, misery threatening to overwhelm him at the way Kestrelflight was keeping a fox-length between them. “It’s all… all for you, Kestrelflight, I just want…”

Kestrelflight closed his eyes and shook his head again like Harespring was a nightmare he was trying to wake up from. “No, Harespring, I…”

“I just want to be with you,” he breathed. “I’m sorry, I can’t keep it in anymore. I wanted to… I wanted to give you a choice.”

“I don’t have one,” Kestrelflight whispered, his eyes still tightly closed.

_If he would just look at me…_ Harespring’s voice trembled as he said, “You _do_ have a choice. I love you. I would choose you over anything, and if you don’t feel the same way, just… just tell me. I can’t stay in the dark any longer.”

Kestrelflight finally looked at him, gaze tearful and agonized. “Harespring, I can’t choose. I need to put WindClan first, and you… you’re on the side of the Dark Forest! They expect you to fight for them!”

“But I won’t!” Harespring said desperately, taking a step toward him. “I won’t, Kestrelflight, I just want things to change. I don’t want any cat to die.”

“It doesn’t matter! That’s not what the Dark Forest wants!” Kestrelflight shook his head. “You shouldn’t even be in here; if you really don’t want them to hurt any cat, you need to get out there and fight them off right now! Cats are going to die, Harespring, because of the lies the Dark Forest told you.”

_They didn’t lie to me. Not completely._ He knew some of their intentions. He saw the cruelty in Brokenstar, Tigerstar, even Breezepelt; they didn’t want to have a reasoned discussion about the efficacy of the code. They wanted blood. _And cats_ have _died because I didn’t stop them._ “Tornear’s already dead,” he rasped, lowering his head as Kestrelflight’s gaze filled with disbelief. “They… they said that this was the only way.”

“Why would you believe them?” Kestrelflight snapped, seeming to find anger that Harespring had never known him to have. “Stop! You have to—” Harespring stepped forward again, intent on pressing his pelt to Kestrelflight’s. The black and white tom dodged away. “Get away from me! Go fight! Prove you didn’t want this!”

Desperation edged his voice and Harespring recoiled. _He doesn’t believe me. He thinks I’m still on their side._ A thousand explanations clogged his throat, burned his tongue, until all he managed was, “I love you. I’m sorry.” And then he ran.

He threw himself into battle, thinking faintly that it would be an appropriate time to die. He’d heard enough elders’ tales, alright. He had made his big confession, he had recognized the error of his ways, and now it would be time for him to die, thinking that it was too late and hoping that Kestrelflight would remember him fondly.

Shredtail had trained him too well, though, he thought as he hooked his claws into the back of a dark warrior that was shredding Hazeltail. He wrestled him easily, pinned him, and then bit the shadow’s neck until he stopped writhing. Hazeltail watched with wide eyes, then said half-heartedly, “Thanks, Harekit.”

Whatever humour he felt at her comment was immediately leached away when his gaze caught on the wrestling cats just beyond her. _Sunstrike!_ A ragged, pale gray Dark Forest warrior slammed his paw into her head over and over again, and her attempts to defend herself grew feebler. _Not again,_ he thought helplessly, already in movement to try to tear the tom off her. _Not again!_

He was too slow. Again. The tabby unsheathed silver claws and scored them across Sunstrike’s neck. Harespring collided with his flank a heartbeat too late, sending him crashing to the ground, his claws slipping from their intended course. Still, they caught Sunstrike’s neck and, though it was clumsy, blood began to pump from her dark fur.

A furious yowl rang out of Harespring, at once mournful and furious as he drove the Dark Forest warrior into the earth, forcing his head onto the earth at an unnatural angle. With a snap, the gray tom began to fade, still writhing as he died. Harespring turned away immediately, desperate to return to Sunstrike’s side before life left her body. She lay on the dirt, legs splayed in front of her.

“I’m sorry Sunstrike, I’m sorry,” he whispered, crouching next to her. “I wasn’t fast enough.”

Her eyes flickered as they tried to focus on him. “H-Harespring?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. She let out a shaking breath.

“It’s okay.” She tried for a smile, blood edging her lips, and said, “You would’ve saved me… if you could…” Her voice rasped, and she tried to cough, more blood flecking her muzzle. Her eyes seemed to lose and regain focus as she clung to life.

“I would’ve loved you if I could,” he whispered, utterly miserable at his own inability to lie to her, to give her one last piece of joy before she went.

“I know,” she breathed. “Be… just, please be... happy… okay…?” And then her head lolled back onto the earth and her green eyes stared up at StarClan, empty.

A trembling wail rose from Harespring, and he staggered away from her. _There’s no time to mourn. I can’t be too late again. Who’ll be next? Larkwing? Ashfoot?_ But Ashfoot was already dead, he realized, lying next to Darkstripe’s fading body. _Heathertail?_ She was in RiverClan. Panic seized him. _There’s no time! Just save as many as you can and leave it in StarClan’s paws._ They wouldn’t be doing him any favours after what he’d done, and what he’d failed to do, but maybe their mercy would extend to his Clanmates. _Please, just keep Kestrelflight safe,_ he begged them. He felt no meaningful rustle of wind, no whisper in his ear from some benevolent ancestor. _I’m sorry._

And he returned to the battle, knowing that he wouldn’t die that day. _Neither StarClan nor the Dark Forest want me,_ he thought, swinging hard at the muzzle of a scarred tortoiseshell. _I’m sorry, Sunstrike, I don’t think I can be happy. Not anymore._ He kept fighting, watching his Clanmates die or be ushered into Kestrelflight’s den, brushing off every sting of pain and tug of exhaustion.

As Snowtuft, as small and vicious as a stoat, shot forward to clamp his jaws around Harespring’s tendon, the tom realized vaguely that he felt nothing at all. Snowtuft’s blue gaze flicked up, assessing how disoriented Harespring was by the pain, and Harespring took the opportunity to score his claws over Snowtuft’s eyes. He watched numbly as the faded white tom reeled back, howling with pain, and then struck again, harder. As he started paying attention, he noticed how weakened cats became after he hurt them. _Was this my problem…?_ He wondered, watching as a Dark Forest warrior nipped him, then dealt a staggering blow to the tabby’s chest. _It doesn’t hurt any more._

He kept fighting until the last shadows fled from WindClan’s camp, unafraid of pain or injury, until his gaze finally darkened, his strikes faltered, and he collapsed.

* * *

_Show me how to lie / You're getting better all the time / Turning all against the one / Is an art that's hard to teach / Another clever word / Sets off an unsuspecting herd / And as you get back into line / A mob jumps to their feet_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to SedatedDreams for commenting on Catch and Release, and a request to everyone who enjoyed that they leave a comment!


	3. Don't Stay / Don't Leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle’s over, but Harespring is struggling to find his place as deputy of WindClan. Kestrelflight can’t choose him, he knows, but he can’t get the medicine cat out of his head. His decision to stand at Onestar’s side no matter what grows harder to stick to as the leader becomes paranoid and irrational, and soon Harespring is going to have to learn that true courage means making the right choice when no cat else can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached the end of this little trilogy. I hope you all enjoyed it, maybe felt a lil something and grew a lil attached to these backgroundish boys. And I extra hope that you check out Catch and Release!

Harespring was tired.

After the battle, he had learned that he had collapsed. Kestrelflight had nursed him and a dozen others back to life. A dozen more never stepped off the battlefield. He learned their names.

Breezepelt was gone—not dead, he was told. Crowfeather and Nightcloud spoke little to any cat other than each other, grieving their son and the choice he had made. Heathertail was battling dire injuries in RiverClan medicine den and had yet to wake up. Kestrelflight was running himself ragged, moving between the camps, caring for half the Clan at once.

And Harespring was…

Well, he wasn’t quite sure yet. He wasn’t banished. He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t victorious. He was just… tired.

Two days after the battle, too long after Ashfoot had been buried, Onestar approached Harespring.

“I want you to be my deputy.”

Harespring raised his head from his paws, where he’d been lying at the edge of camp, studying his Clanmates. “Why.”

Onestar’s gaze was unreadable. “Because you’re the best tom for the job. And the other leaders and I have decided to forgive the Dark Forest trainees.”

Harespring huffed a laugh. _You, and no one else._ There was a reason he hadn’t spoken to most of his Clanmates since the battle. He and Larkwing had buried Sunstrike alone. He hadn’t even tried to attend Tornear’s vigil.

“Pity, then?”

Onestar’s eyes flashed at the hint of insolence in his voice, then repeated, “I believe you’re the best tom for the job.”

“Hm.” Harespring let his gaze drift, imagining being deputy. _Organizing patrols. I’m sure every cat would be thrilled that I’m telling them what to do then._ His gaze slid to the medicine den, and he quickly averted his eyes. _More expectations._ He’d sit with Brambleclaw, Reedwhisker, and Rowanclaw at Gatherings. _No, not Bramble_ claw _anymore. Because Firestar is dead._

“Well? I’ll hold the ceremony now, if you say yes,” Onestar said.

_If say yes?_ Harespring swallowed hard. _I should be so honoured. I should be amazed that I’m being offered such a position over any senior warrior. But…_ He couldn’t feel much of anything. “Alright.” There wasn’t much else he could think to say besides that.

Onestar nodded. The leader liked to get his own way, Harespring knew, which suited Harespring fine. _I don’t need to do any of the leading. I’ll just fall in line with whatever Onestar says, then I’ll die in some unfortunate accident, and then some cat meant for greatness like Heathertail will succeed him._ His mind made up, Harespring stood and followed Onestar to the Tallrock.

It was easier than he’d expected—both the ceremony and the work after it. Undoubtedly, the Clan hated him. Ashfoot had been very popular, and now she was dead. Crowfeather had been an obvious choice to fill her pawprints; her son, a former prophecy cat, and a brave warrior in his own right. Harespring wondered if the scent of scandal that hung over Crowfeather and Leafpool’s heads was what had killed the elder tom’s chances at deputyship, and Harespring wondered why Onestar thought a traitor was a better choice.

Still, all Harespring had to do for now was dip his head and thank Onestar for it. The routine afterward was much the same: fall in line with Onestar, get up early to organize patrols, and avoid giving his Clanmates another reason to hate him. He managed for a few days, and found himself relieved that the new position entailed so much work. He didn’t have a spare moment to linger in camp, trying to catch the eye of the tom who rarely left the medicine den because Boulderfur was badly hurt.

Harespring kept busy. A day later, though, Boulderfur was dead, and Heathertail wasn’t. Onestar told Harespring to tell Kestrelflight to fetch back Onestar’s ‘son,’ and Harespring spoke his first words to Kestrelflight in five days.

“He wants you to go get Heathertail.”

“Alright.”

Kestrelflight didn’t meet his gaze, merely dipped his head and left camp without looking back. Harespring watched him go, unable for the first time in three days to think of anything else to occupy his attention. _What do we do now?_ he wondered. _It’s over. I wanted to change things for us, and instead I made everything so much worse._

_Prove you didn’t want this!_ Kestrelflight’s plea rang in his ears.

And Harespring had failed, hadn’t he?

Boulderfur lay cold in the ground when Kestrelflight returned, supporting the heavily injured Heathertail. Her smoke-blue gaze was empty, and Harespring felt the glimmer of recognition somewhere deep in his chest.

“Congratulations,” was all Heathertail said, though Harespring barely registered it. He couldn’t look away from Kestrelflight, though he had no idea what he could say. _It’s over,_ he thought again. _We’re over. I’ve ruined everything, and it’s over._ Sunstrike’s entreatment to him as she lay dying echoed in his ears. _I can’t be happy._

“We should talk.” Kestrelflight’s tone was perfectly level, but it still drove a thorn right through Harespring’s heart. _About what? He doesn’t… would he…_ Harespring stared at him, then finally dipped his head, then turned to Heathertail.

“Heathertail, your father wants to speak with you.”

Heathertail looked for all the world like she’d rather walk out of camp and never come back, but she only nodded and brushed past them. Kestrelflight and Harespring were alone.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” Kestrelflight said.

_What does he want from me?_ But his friend’s—his— _Kestrelflight’s_ gaze was as unfamiliar to him as ShadowClan territory. Harespring followed him out of camp and they walked together over the moor until they reached the edge of the lake. It was twilight, the kind of leaf-fall twilight that swathed the world in dusky blues and purple. At last, in the fading light of the sun, Kestrelflight turned to him.

“You’re the deputy.”

Harespring blinked slowly. “Yes.” _What?_

Kestrelflight let out a long, shaking breath, then said, “Oh, Harespring, what are we going to do?” His voice was so softly sad that Harespring couldn’t stop himself from pressing his body to Kestrelflight’s. He didn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry,” Harespring said. He knew it was true; he was sorrier than he’d ever known was possible. He wanted to tear open his past and weed out every bad decision, every mistake and every bit of harm he’d caused not only Kestrelflight, but his whole Clan.

“I know.”

They stayed at the water’s edge, silent, until there was no light left and the world was gray and dark. “Kestrelflight, I…”

“Harespring.” Warning and misery warred in the tom’s voice.

“I know it’s over, and I know I can’t—I know that—I’m just so sorry. I wish everything was different and I wish…” Harespring swallowed hard, pressing back down the truth that threatened to emerge. “I’m sorry.”

Kestrelflight shook his head and huffed a short laugh. “I wanted to tell you that it was over, and that I can’t—that I have to—well… I guess you know.”

He _did_ know. Harespring closed his eyes. “Yeah. I’m sorry for what I said during the battle, I don’t—” But what he wanted to say would be a lie, and Harespring didn’t want to lie to him. Not to Kestrelflight. So instead, he said, “I know you need to choose WindClan.”

Kestrelflight nodded, closing his eyes for a moment.

_I would choose you._ Harespring swallowed again, the back of his throat feeling full of things he knew couldn’t say. _I love you for it._ “Okay. Deputy and medicine cat, then?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry for what happened to Boulderfur.” It felt like an absurdly juvenile sentiment to try to capture the unadulterated, senseless loss of a cat so young, but Harespring had never been clever enough to bend language to his will. _And not strong enough to protect Boulderfur from getting hurt in the first place._

“Yes.”

“Alright,” he repeated, and looked out at the lake to make sure Kestrelflight didn’t read anything he was concealing in his gaze should their eyes meet. “I should go.”

“Goodbye, Harespring.”

And for a heartbeat, it was as though they were holding vigil for something that had never existed in the first place. Harespring was grateful at least, that he had never known how it was to truly love Kestrelflight and be loved in return, or he was certain his heart would shatter. Still, as he left Kestrelflight’s side, a feeling of great compression, crushing his heart and stealing his breath, began in his chest.

He padded away, and when he was certain Kestrelflight was out of earshot, he let himself whimper softly. _Why does it hurt so much? It’s over. It never even began. You just fell in love with the wrong tom, and he made the right choice when you couldn’t, and now it’s laid to rest._ He lifted his eyes to the moon, to the too-bright stars, and thought bitterly, _And now I get to be the deputy of a Clan that knows me as a traitor and live out my days alone. I guess that’s what I deserve._

Sleep didn’t come that night. He rose from the ranks of sleeping Clanmates and made his way to the edge of camp, dipping his head to Larkwing on guard. He felt a prick of gratitude that there was at least one cat with whom he could share the horrors of the Dark Forest. Breezepelt had still not returned, and Harespring had begun to think that he never would. Antpelt was long dead. And Sunstrike was…

Harespring made his way to their graves.

As he sat in the dip of land, memory after memory washed over him. Tornear’s faith in his apprentice—his patience, and his encouragement even as Harespring had been desperate to give up. How easily Harespring had written off his real mentor when Shredtail had offered him a shortcut paved in blood and brutality. Shame seared his throat. _I’m sorry, Tornear,_ he told his mentor. _I’m sorry for not believing in you when you believed in me._

He touched his nose to the earth, then shifted his eyes to the next grave. _I’m sorry, Sunstrike. I’m sorry I couldn’t love you, I’m sorry I didn’t protect you, and I’m sorry I can’t be happy now. You deserved so much more._

 _I’m sorry, Ashfoot; I’m sorry that I’m not doing your legacy justice and I’m sorry that I took the position your son deserved. I’m sorry, Webfoot, I’m sorry, Thistleheart, and I’m so, so sorry to all of you for ever trusting those monsters over my own Clanmates._ He curled up next to them, floating in a haze of grief and guilt and anger with himself, and finally drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Don’t Stay / Don’t Leave

“What’s the problem with you and Kestrelflight?” Onestar asked over fresh-kill one evening. Harespring had taken to eating with Onestar and Whitetail, or occasionally Larkwing. The other option was alone, and Harespring knew it would look terrible to be deputy and to be eating in solitude.

“What do you mean?” he asked, avoiding his leader’s penetrating stare. “There’s not a problem with us.”

Onestar made a doubtful noise. “You rarely speak to each other.”

Harespring shrugged, trying to ignore the tight feeling in his throat. “We’re just not that close, I guess.”

“Well, I don’t care,” Onestar eventually said. “But I expect you to be cordial with one another.”

Harespring twitched his whiskers in acknowledgement, and finished his portion of the rabbit they were sharing.

“What about you and Larkwing?” The older tom’s voice lightened. “Should we expect the patter of kit paws in the nursery, say… in a few moons?”

He nearly choked, then cleared his throat fiercely and replied, “No, I don’t think so. We’re just friends.”

Onestar shot Whitetail a knowing look, and she replied with a purr. Even though the suggestion made Harespring’s ears hot with embarrassment, he figured it was better than Onestar suspecting anything else about his deputy. _Still, she’s so_ young _! I remember when she was a new apprentice._ He shook his head. _Definitely not._

“I was going to give you Slightkit to mentor,” Onestar commented as he buried the rabbit’s bones. “Are you up for it?”

“Of course,” Harespring said, because there wasn’t really another answer he could give. Onestar seemed to enjoy posing questions that only allowed one right answer. Still, Slightkit was a bright little tom, and Harespring knew it would be a welcome distraction now that he’d adjusted to deputyship. If nothing else, it would fill his days with something other than avoiding Kestrelflight and doing the same repetitive duties.

The ceremony was performed the next day, and Harespring’s heart sank when he realized Slightpaw’s denmates, Featherpaw and Hootpaw, were being apprenticed to Crowfeather and Nightcloud respectively. The senior tom had made no secret of his dislike of Harespring. Still, Harespring made an effort; if he could get into Crowfeather’s good graces, perhaps the Clan would warm up to him and each day would be a little more bearable.

WindClan was taxed with more troubles moons after the Great Battle, as more apprentices that had no paw in the battle were named warriors, more kits were born in a world that hadn’t known bloodshed in many sunrises. Harespring poured himself into training Slightpaw, into showing the tom the worth of hard work and perseverance.

These troubles made themselves known one inconspicuous day. Harespring led a patrol, out on the moor when they saw the flash of white in the tunnels. For a moment, Harespring choked back a thousand memories of eyes with nothing behind them and the brutal strength of something beyond mortality. _He cannot hurt my Clan. He cannot hurt Larkwing, he cannot hurt Kestrelflight, he cannot hurt Slightpaw,_ was the mantra he kept in mind as he breathed, “A ghost.”

Hootpaw’s fur bushed out as he stared at the deputy. Crowfeather shot him a sharp look and Harespring fished for a convincing lie.

“Smoky from the horseplace told me once that kittypets sometimes came back after they died, all shining white, to visit their Twolegs. He said he’d seen ghosts with his own eyes,” he explained, shaking out his pelt and trying to clear the memory of the ghost he’d killed.

And Crowfeather scoffed, made some pointed remark that said clearly enough that he thought Harespring had fluff in his brain and wasn’t fit to be deputy. Harespring was relieved by it, though. His scorn was preferable to any suspicions that might hit closer to the deputy’s true history.

They returned to camp and Harespring shut his eyes against the onslaught of memories of Maggottail writhing beneath him, of him pinning Larkpaw, and of the piercing chill that swept through him as Maggottail stood across from him in the Dark Forest.

Harespring brought the news to Onestar, hoping the apprentices’ eagerness and wild tales would conceal the shadows that might have crept into his own gaze. Sure enough, Onestar was quick to dismiss Harespring’s repeated tale of Smoky and ghosts, and began planning their future moves. When he had finished, to Harespring’s surprise, he dismissed all of them except Crowfeather. Harespring shot a glance at the older warrior, then quickly left them. _What does he want with Crowfeather? Does he regret naming me deputy, if he’s consulting Crowfeather?_

Despite his own initial reluctance, Harespring couldn’t deny he’d grown acclimated to the position. Organizing the Clan and training Slightpaw had taken the edge off the sorrow that lingered under the surface of his consciousness. It was easy to forget Sunstrike’s murmured words and Kestrelflight’s wounded gaze when he was too tired to think of anything beyond his next pawstep and his next bite of fresh-kill. It grounded him in a way nothing else would.

Soon enough, the threat was revealed as odd-coloured stoats, and the pale demon that had been awoken in Harespring’s dreams faded into the shade once more. The stoats were less easily dealt with. Every patrol that Onestar sent out returned with welling cuts and limping warriors. Harespring ignored Kestrelflight’s vision of the wind pressing back the water and all its implications, and instead threw himself into battle with the stoats.

Though he hated himself for the ferocity the Dark Forest had taught him, he knew it saved him from many potentially grievous injuries. Many of his Clanmates weren’t as lucky, and Harespring avoided Kestrelflight’s gaze through it all. The battle was what Onestar had ordered. He’d had no choice in the matter. Soon enough, Kestrelflight’s pleading looks turned to someone else, and Harespring wasn’t sure if he was relieved or nonsensically jealous.

Harespring saw Kestrelflight’s influence—his compassion, his bravery, his willingness to go beyond borders for what he believed was right—when Crowfeather spoke up in the middle of the Clan, telling Onestar they should go to ThunderClan for help. Doubts clawed Harespring. _Should I have been the one speaking up?_

But Onestar cut him down, and Harespring was relieved to have a real excuse to lower his eyes and stay out of it.

He was less relieved when ThunderClan turned up in their camp, insisting they be involved in fighting back the stoats. Harespring held steady at Onestar’s side as his leader spat at them to leave. He met Crowfeather’s roiling blue gaze and wondered if the warrior had had a paw in this. Bramblestar wouldn’t be so bold as to stroll into their camp with no guarantee of a sympathetic ear, surely. Harespring watched his retreating back, his broad shoulders and thick tabby fur, and shivered.

_Wouldn’t he?_

Still, he was gone now. WindClan would deal with this alone; Kestrelflight’s vision had suggested that _wind_ would be what drove back the water. Onestar turned on Crowfeather, hissing about future punishments for stepping out of line, and Harespring’s heart sank. _Crowfeather was the one to ask Bramblestar for help, then._ He was certain of it. _That was the brave thing to do, wasn’t it? Well, it’s certain Onestar won’t be replacing me with him, then._

But that wasn’t the end of it. The moment Onestar was finished with Crowfeather, the dark-furred warrior sought out Harespring.

“Look, Harespring, you’re Onestar’s deputy,” Crowfeather growled, padding up to him at the edge of the camp. “Can’t you make him see sense? Can’t you tell him that we’ll never get rid of the stoats if we don’t have ThunderClan’s help?”

Harespring flinched. _Speak out against Onestar…?_ He looked over Crowfeather’s shoulder and saw a white tail-tip disappear into Kestrelflight’s den. “I can’t do that. I’m loyal to Onestar. It’s my duty to see that my Clan leader’s orders are carried out.”

Crowfeather bit off a growl and for a moment Harespring wondered if the tom was going to jump on him with claws unsheathed. Then he softened suddenly and shook his head. “Just think about what I’ve said.”

Harespring’s pelt prickled with unease. _I can’t._ More and more, it was becoming clear to him that Onestar had appointed him deputy because he was a young, inexperienced warrior that would fall in line with whatever his leader ordered. Onestar expected him to toe the line, to be afraid that both Onestar’s forgiveness, and the respect he was afforded as deputy, would be revoked if he stepped wrong. And Harespring didn’t have the strength to try to contest him.

“There’s no _need_ to think,” he told Crowfeather, feeling his voice weighed with all he couldn’t say. Crowfeather was looking for an excuse to hate him, he knew, and telling the senior warrior that he was afraid to challenge Onestar would seal it. The only other option was to project blind loyalty. “Onestar has got this. I told you, everything will be all right.” And he hurried away before the truth escaped.

Crowfeather seemed stiff and angry every time Harespring saw him after that. He began training Slightpaw alone just to avoid the warrior. Worse yet, he didn’t have much of an excuse at all for not standing up to Onestar about the stoats. It was his own cowardice driving his actions. _I guess I’m right back to being a mouse-heart. Well, good._ He hated what the Dark Forest had turned him into; the tom that Kestrelflight had seen during the battle in his den, the tom that his Clanmates saw when they watched him stalk around the camp.

Even after the stoats were gone and dealt with, even after Crowfeather seemed to adjust to the idea that Harespring wasn’t going anywhere fast, Harespring couldn’t banish the lingering feeling of _wrong_ in his stomach. He was a mouse-heart again. Better than a traitor, perhaps, but it was a bad time for WindClan’s deputy to be a mouse-heart. Onestar grew more paranoid every day, further isolating WindClan from the others.

Harespring had just returned to camp when he heard Onestar snarl, “You will not gather herbs on my land.”

_The ShadowClan sickness?_ he wondered, pricking his ears as he padded into the camp. _Does Puddleshine think WindClan has a cure? Kestrelflight wouldn’t have kept it from them, though._

Sure enough, Kestrelflight pushed through the crowd and squared his shoulders. “Surely Puddleshine can gather herbs? The Clans have always allowed medicine cats to gather herbs when lives are at stake.”

Onestar turned on him with the kind of ferocious anger that Harespring had rarely seen before from his leader. “No!”

Kestrelflight shrank back. The ShadowClan cats were banished from the camp, and that feeling of _wrong_ surged back up inside Harespring. His silence was leaden on his tongue. But Kestrelflight just turned, his tail flat on the ground, and slunk back into his den. That he had not even thought to appeal to Harespring made the deputy’s heart twist, even though he knew what his answer would have to be. Onestar was looking for any excuse, these days.

_I can’t say anything,_ he thought. _I can’t speak out against my leader._

_I can’t question what he tells me._

That was the thought that stopped him in his tracks. He watched Onestar retreat into his den, his brown tabby pelt darkening in the shadow. Another memory clawed its way up from his subconscious and Harespring closed his eyes, willing it away.

_But I truly_ can’t, _this time. The leader’s word is law._

ShadowClan was dying, and Harespring steeled himself into ignoring it. Every night, when sleep was just beyond reach, the same train of thoughts ran laps in his mind. _I can’t question him. It doesn’t matter how many cats die. I’ll jeopardize myself. I have to go along with this. It’s the only way._

It was horrible, and horribly familiar.

Moons later, he would wonder how differently things would have gone if he hadn’t gone down to the valley where Sunstrike and Tornear were buried that day. As it was, it was too late to turn around and pretend he had been headed another direction when he finally scented Kestrelflight near him.

“Harespring?” The medicine cat was sitting, looking down at something away from Harespring, but when the deputy’s scent rolled over him, Kestrelflight stood and turned.

Harespring faltered, then rolled his shoulders and padded over to the tom. _Medicine cat and deputy,_ he told himself. _Medicine cat and deputy._ “What are you looking at?”

Kestrelflight flicked his tail to the patch of flowers in front of them. Thick bunches of leaves, palely dotted like they were sprinkled in dew, and little purple flowers grew in clumps. Harespring breathed in the scent.

“Lungwort,” Kestrelflight rasped. “We have enough for all of ShadowClan. What’s left of ShadowClan, anyway.”

Guilt swarmed Harespring’s pelt. “It’s terrible,” he agreed.

Kestrelflight’s green eyes were as sharp as broken ice. “Then tell Onestar that ShadowClan needs the herb.”

“He knows,” Harespring breathed, shutting his eyes tightly. “That’s why he’s keeping it from them. To punish them for Furzepelt’s death.”

Kestrelflight lashed his tail. “But it’s _wrong!_ You have to say something, Harespring.”

Harespring swallowed and kept his gaze far from Kestrelflight’s. “I can’t.”

“Can’t, or won’t?”

The scent of the lungwort was overwhelming. They had so much of it, but… the confronting Onestar directly was unthinkable. _Mouse-heart,_ he thought to himself. _Mouse-heart, mouse-heart, mouse-heart._

_Don’t Stay / Don’t Leave_

The half-moon came upon them suddenly. Harespring had tried to the count the days, his newly-formed plan writhing in his stomach every time he saw Onestar or Kestrelflight, yet still managed to be taken by surprise when Onestar left his den to tell him to arrange a warrior escort for Kestrelflight.

“I’ll do it myself,” he told his leader the moment he had recovered his bearings.

Onestar looked faintly surprised. “Oh? Have you and Kestrelflight put your quarrels behind you?”

Harespring flattened his ears. He had never been a good liar, but StarClan willing, he wouldn’t have to hide his plan much longer. “We’re friends.”

Onestar shrugged. Harespring thanked StarClan that Onestar wasn’t in one of his testier moods, or Harespring might have been making the journey to the Moonpool with one clawed ear.

The sun was just setting as they left, the tips of the grass burning orange, then vermilion, as they made their journey. Kestrelflight was stonily silent, though Harespring felt light as a bird, knowing the time to share his idea with Kestrelflight had come at last.

The moment they crossed the border onto the edge of ThunderClan territory, he began speaking. “Kestrelflight, I have a plan.”

Kestrelflight opened his jaws immediately as if he had a scheduled answer for any small talk Harespring tried to make, but paused when the meaning of the words caught up with him. “A plan?”

“To get ShadowClan the lungwort,” Harespring breathed, keeping his eyes on the path ahead.

“What? But you said…”

“I’m not going to talk to Onestar. We’re going to go behind his back, tonight.”

Kestrelflight stopped in his tracks. When Harespring turned back, Kestrelflight’s eyes were round and reflecting the rising moon. “You want to bring Puddleshine to the valley tonight?”

“After the meeting,” Harespring filled in. He felt a little embarrassed that Kestrelflight had caught on so quickly. It wasn’t particularly sophisticated.

Kestrelflight was silent for a moment and Harespring tried to read his expression in the gloom. Then Kestrelflight said, “If Onestar finds out, he’ll be livid.” It was his way out, but he didn’t take it.

“I know.”

“Why are you doing this?”

_Is he trying to talk me out of this?_ There were many answers to Kestrelflight’s question, but Harespring chose the one least likely to provoke a painful conversation. “Because it’s the right thing to do.” _It’s a mouse-hearted choice, really, but it’s better than doing nothing at all._ He tore his eyes away from Kestrelflight’s and fixed them on the moon as it peeked out from behind the trees. _Questioning your leader, at least sometimes, when you think they’re making the wrong choice… That_ has _to be the right thing to do. How can a deputy follow them into cruelty with a good conscience? Obeying without thinking… that’s how I got myself into this mess in the first place._

“I’ll ask StarClan,” Kestrelflight offered when the silence lagged. “Just… to make sure this is their will.”

A little bitterness flickered in Harespring. Not at Kestrelflight; that was, after all, the medicine cat choice to make. Instead, the possibility of ‘StarClan says no’ made his hackles raise. _Why would they get involved_ now _?_

Just as they reached the apex of ThunderClan territory and came to the brim of the deep stone hollow that concealed the Moonpool, Kestrelflight turned to him. The glitter of his eyes in the starlight made Harespring’s heart thrum.

“Thank you, Harespring,” Kestrelflight murmured.

The heartbeat before the medicine cat went down to the water’s edge stretched tightly between them, and Harespring opened his jaws, desperate to let out the other answer. _I’m doing this because I love you._ Then his chance was gone, and Kestrelflight jumped down onto the path that would bring him to the Moonpool. Harespring let out a long breath, then whispered, “Be careful!”

Kestrelflight flicked his ear and joined the medicine cats. Harespring watched them for a moment, then decided it felt too much like intruding and curled up on the stone. It leached the warmth from his body, but he was grateful; too much heat raged beneath his pelt for this sacred place.

_I’m sorry, StarClan,_ he thought, closing his eyes. _I’m sorry that I listened to Shredtail and I’m sorry that I can’t stop loving Kestrelflight. But he’s yours, and he’s making the right choice by staying away from me. Give him the strength to hold true to his word._

He was awoken from his dreamless doze by Kestrelflight’s jubilant cry.

“Harespring! It’s okay. StarClan says it’s okay!”

_Then ShadowClan is saved._

He and Kestrelflight led the medicine cats, shoulder to shoulder, across ThunderClan territory, down to the stream, over it, and then deep into the heart of WindClan. When the other medicine cats understood what was happening, they fell silent as well and the only sound was the thrumming of their paws over the night’s land.

Harespring knew it was a stupid, shallow thought, but running at the head of a patrol of medicine cats, all with little battle training, finally making a stand for what was right even if it was behind his leader’s back… for a heartbeat, he felt like one of those brave toms in the elders’ tales. Like he was Talltail, pinning an eagle, he was Firestar, stopping a war, he was Harespring—

He kept his eyes ahead. Affording a glance at Kestrelflight now might let too much slip.

Still, he stood at the edge of the group as Puddleshine began to gather the lungwort. Then one by one, the other medicine cats stepped forward to help the ShadowClan medicine cat. A feeling of clarity swept over Harespring, so certain and powerful that his eyes stung.

He watched Leafpool, who had helped train the nervous ShadowClan tom, biting through the stalks side by side with him. Jayfeather and Alderpaw stacked it, Jayfeather silently correcting the young tom’s movements with his own deft skill. Willowshine and Mothwing flattened the flowers to slot them into place with the stems, while Kestrelflight laid each bundle across a long stalk of grass and bound them.

Soon enough, Puddleshine had enough parcels of lungwort for two ShadowClans. The other medicine cats picked up the extra to help him carry it, wordlessly agreeing help him until the herb was securely in ShadowClan’s medicine den.

Harespring watched them, this odd collection of cats bound by the code to cross borders and to unconditionally help, and wondered how many warriors got to witness this. _This is what being a medicine cat is about,_ he thought as he escorted them to ShadowClan. Even as a warrior crossing a border, none of them spoke up. Leafpool shot him a warm glance. Puddleshine looked so relieved that Harespring half-expected him to burst into tears. _This is why._

He waited outside the moonlit ShadowClan camp as the group of medicine cats filed into Puddleshine’s den. The scent of sickness was thick on the air, and in an instant, Harespring was certain he wouldn’t have been able to forgive himself if he hadn’t done anything at all. Mothwing and Willowshine were the first to leave them, returning to their territory the opposite direction as the ThunderClan medicine cats and Kestrelflight and Harespring.

When they reached the ThunderClan border, Leafpool helped Alderpaw get a better grip on the parcel of lungwort that Kestrelflight had insisted they take. Jayfeather murmured something to Kestrelflight, then fixed his sightless blue eyes on Harespring. Harespring’s pelt prickled and he wondered if he should say something to the grouchy medicine cat. Then Jayfeather gave him a small nod and set out with his denmates toward ThunderClan camp.

“Hm, Jayfeather’s approval.” Kestrelflight’s tone was lighter and more carefree than Harespring had heard it in a long time. “I’ve known him since I was an apprentice and he’s never given me so much as a mousetail.”

Harespring snorted. “Did you see the way he looked at me when you told them to take the extra lungwort? Like if I told them they couldn’t have it, he’d claw me. I _wouldn’t_ have, but…”

“I know you wouldn’t have,” Kestrelflight breathed, and Harespring found he couldn’t look away. They had stopped by the WindClan border. “You did a very brave thing tonight.”

“No, the _brave_ thing would have been to challenge Onestar directly,” Harespring said, feeling his pelt get hot.

Kestrelflight’s eyes were clear. “Maybe. But I know that many cats are going to have another day because of you, and I think that’s worth something. The grand act of bravery… it doesn’t…” Kestrelflight shook his head. “I just know that at least the others aren’t going to forget what you did tonight.”

_The others…_ Harespring clamped down tightly on the hope that unfurled in his chest. _And you? No, Harespring. You did this for ShadowClan, and for Puddleshine._ Still, when they returned to the WindClan camp, Harespring stood silently at the camp’s entrance for another few moments as he watched Kestrelflight return the herbs to his den, then settle down under the stars. A heartbeat after Kestrelflight had stilled, Harespring moved to about a tail-length away and curled up as well.

Onestar was indeed livid.

The truth came out at a Gathering when Rowanstar got into a heated exchange with Harespring’s leader.

Onestar seemed to have no concept of ‘too far.’ “You recovered, didn’t you? You never really needed it!” The callousness of Onestar’s words took Harespring’s breath away.

“We only recovered because Harespring and Kestrelflight have far more compassion than you! They gave us the herb!”

Rowanstar’s words provoked a flurry of whispers. Kestrelflight stood with the medicine cats a fox-length away from Harespring’s place with the deputies, and they immediately locked eyes.

“Is this true?” And then the full force of Onestar’s glare was fixed on him.

Kestrelflight shrank back, his fearful look moving from Harespring to his leader. Something burned in Harespring to see him like that. He looked up at Onestar, feeling the strangest courage steady his voice, and answered, “I could not let a Clan die.”

Despite the anxiety that twisted his gut, he felt no uncertainty as he met Onestar’s blazing stare. _ShadowClan was dying, and I did what I could, no matter how mouse-hearted. Now I just have to weather whatever punishment Onestar sees fit to give me._

Kestrelflight padded forward to stand at his shoulder, in spite of how the medicine cat’s whiskers quivered. “I consulted StarClan,” he mewed. “They told me that it was the right thing to do.”

Harespring was relieved this time that Kestrelflight had thought to do so; and indeed, it seemed to pacify Onestar, or at least redirect his anger. His leader’s fiery gaze turned back to Rowanstar, and Harespring turned before Kestrelflight could retreat back to the medicine cat circle.

Kestrelflight gave him a firm nod, then withdrew. A wave of relief lapped at Harespring’s paws and it took him a moment to identify the source. _We’re on the same side again,_ he realized. _And this time, it’s the right one._ He watched Kestrelflight for another heartbeat. _I’ll keep fighting my mouse-hearted battles, as long as it’s by his side. As friends._

That vow grew hard to hold as Onestar’s orders grew more severe, his presence within the Clan even less consistent. Some days he expected Harespring to sort out everything on his behalf. Some days he snapped at him to remember who WindClan’s leader was.

Still, Harespring and Kestrelflight were on good terms, and that was all that mattered when the sun went down and Harespring was trying to fall asleep.

As the Kin gained power, expanding to take RiverClan cats prisoners, Harespring found himself unsure in a different way. He was sure Onestar was doing the wrong thing by tightening his own control over WindClan, but what _was_ the right thing to do? They had too many rogues to be overthrown by one WindClan battle patrol, but perhaps if WindClan hadn’t retreated in the first battle… Still, he couldn’t dwell on the past. WindClan needed strong leadership _now_ , and an answer for the troubles that all the Clans were facing. Harespring just wasn’t sure what that answer _was_.

Onestar put off any action until it was too late. Again, the wrong choice. Harespring had a new feeling, however; a feeling that if he was one day the tom in charge, he would have to forge a new path for WindClan.

There was little time to dwell on that. The Kin descended on them before dawn, while most were still asleep in their nests.

Harespring fought his way through the writhing mass of teeth and fur, planting himself in front of the medicine den and driving off any rogue that dared get too close. Still, most of the Kin’s efforts seemed focused on Onestar, who writhed and snapped like a tom possessed.

A battle cry split the air as another patrol arrived in camp, fresh scents drowning out the blood spilled on the moor. _But I didn’t even get a chance to send out the dawn patrol!_ Harespring thought. _Not more rogues, surely!_ Then he spotted his leader. _No!_

He ripped free of the tabby clawing his back and shot at Darktail as the rogue tried to pin Onestar. Just as he reached them, a spiky-furred brown tom thrust between them and swiped at Harespring. Harespring ducked back in time to clear the way for an unfamiliar, massive gray tom to leap forward. The stranger bowled the rogue over, lashing his claws across his face.

When that proved enough to send the rogue fleeing, the gray tom gave Harespring a brusque nod.

“Thanks!” Harespring gasped, then yelped as he was knocked to the ground by a white she-cat.

A new, familiar scent flooded Harespring’s mouth as a hulking tabby tore the she-cat away from Harespring. He didn’t question it as he battered her stomach, taking the opportunity Tigerheart of ShadowClan had created by pulling her off balance by the scruff. Without signalling to each other, they found a good rhythm of Tigerheart hauling her backward before she got her footing and Harespring aiming lightning-quick blows at her face and chest.

She yowled at the onslaught, then finally pulled free and ran. Harespring took a heavy breath, eyeing Tigerheart. _Why is he here?_ He knew Rowanstar’s son had grown accustomed to carrying out his father’s business. _Is he leading the battle patrol?_ Tigerheart returned to stare with unreadable amber eyes, and for a heartbeat, Harespring felt like he was right back in the Dark Forest with his not-Clanmates. Their synchronism was no accident.

“Stop!”

The call rang out over the fighting cats. He froze to turn and see Darktail standing in the centre of WindClan camp, his white pelt stained red and his eyes blazing. Harespring tore his gaze away from Tigerheart.

Onestar was still spitting with fury, circling Darktail, and the rogue leader turned a cold eye on the older tom.

“You mouse-hearted excuse for a cat! Is that the best you can do? A kittypet fights better!” Darktail’s lips drew back in a chilling smile. “But then… you always were a coward.”

Onestar spat again. Harespring stared at his leader, trying to piece the loaded statement together.

“Darktail,” Harespring rasped, feeling the eerie calm of the sudden pause in combat flatten his voice. “You’re talking like… like you know Onestar. How can that be?”

Onestar and Darktail traded insults once more. Harespring stared between them, unable to parse the strange tension that simmered in the air. They looked frighteningly similar to him; two leaders blinded by their own end goals and paranoia, stiff-legged and furious. There even seemed to be something akin in the edge of their voices, the curve of their shoulders.

Finally, Darktail left, promising that WindClan would pay. Harespring could only watch, and wait for Onestar’s explanation.

He sent out the patrols as normal, waiting for the other leaders’ arrival, and tried to cling to normalcy as long as he could. It felt like the end of an era in some unnameable way.

As Onestar recounted his tale, and Smoke’s, Harespring sat very still. He had long ago outgrown his apprentice-hood ideals of Onestar as an untouchable cat of the stars, but… _this._ This was a lot to take in, even so.

He held his peace even as the other leaders spoke incredulously, Squirrelflight adding a contemptuous comment, even Kestrelflight assuring him he wouldn’t be condemned to the Dark Forest for his failure as a father.

_No,_ Harespring thought. _That’s true._ He knew the sorts of cats that ended up in the Dark Forest, and Onestar wouldn’t last a day. _Or perhaps he would. I did._

He finally spoke, after Onestar agreed to join the other Clans in fighting the Kin.

“You did the right thing,” he said quietly to his leader as the camp cleared. Onestar listened without comment, and Harespring, dipping his head, went on. “I think… I think I might understand some of what you’re feeling right now; like you’ve done something so wrong that you can never go back.”

Onestar lowered his muzzle too.

“You don’t have to go back, though. You _can’t_ ; no cat can. Just do the right thing for your Clan moving forward, and they’ll judge you for who you are now,” Harespring said. He caught Crowfeather’s eye from across the camp. Then he looked back at his leader, a little worried that he’d overstepped. The tom’s fur was flat, though.

“You’re wiser than I was, at that age,” Onestar commented, then huffed. “I suppose every cat knows just how foolish I was, now. But when Tallstar named me deputy…” He shook his head. “I was very afraid. Don’t be afraid, Harespring. Trust yourself, trust your deputy, and trust Kestrelflight. I know you and he…” He paused and tilted his head to his deputy, but Harespring didn’t explain. “You’ve had your troubles. But he’s a brilliant medicine cat, and a truly kind, compassionate tom.”

_I know,_ Harespring thought. _That’s the problem._ Then he blinked. “Onestar, you’re talking as if you’re going to die. I’m not going to be WindClan’s next leader.”

Onestar huffed another laugh. “Yes, you are. I’m on my last life, Harespring, and I’m going to lose it in this battle. But it’s alright; this is what’s meant to be. I’m going to do the right thing for my Clan, like you said, and that means sacrifice.”

Harespring found he had nothing to tell his leader, seeing the flame of certainty in the depths of his eyes. He just dipped his head. “It’s been an honour to serve as your deputy.”

“You’ll be alright,” Onestar said.

And just as he’d predicted, when the battle came and went, Harespring returned to camp alone at the head of his patrol.

Kestrelflight brought up the rear, supporting Nightcloud. She was the worst injured, but none were dead except for Onestar. Harespring breathed out a long sigh, then looked up at the sky. It was twilight, and the stars had begun to come out. Dusky blue and purple. _The more things change, the more things stay the same._

He didn’t have long before he would need to name his deputy, but that wasn’t worrying him. He knew his choice.

“I can’t believe he’s really gone,” Crowfeather murmured, coming up to his shoulder.

Harespring hummed. “Mm. He was ready, though. We spoke before the battle and… I don’t know, maybe leaders get a feeling about that.”

Crowfeather nodded, then told him gruffly, “He was a good leader. And I’m sure you’ll do a good job filling his pawprints.”

“Currying for favour already?”

Crowfeather’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to defend himself, then narrowed his eyes again. “You’re teasing, aren’t you?”

“Just a little.” Indeed, Harespring’s paws felt lighter than they had in moons despite the burdens that had just fallen onto his shoulders. With the night falling and his Clan at his back, he felt that same certainty as he had when he and the medicine cats were gathering lungwort. _This is where I’m meant to be. This is who I’m meant to be._ “I’m planning to make you deputy, by the way.”

“Thank you.” Crowfeather dipped his head.

_He expected it,_ Harespring thought, and smiled anyway. _Good. He’ll make a good deputy. At least the Clan already respects him._

_Don’t Stay / Don’t Leave_

The night of Harespring’s leadership ceremony was remarkably quiet. The crickets paused their songs as the two toms passed, no swoop of wings overhead signalling an owl or hawk—the only sound was their pawsteps, their breaths, and their heartbeats.

Harespring raised his muzzle as he and Kestrelflight descended into the hollow of the Moonpool. The starlight was beautiful above, but as they reached the water…

It was dazzling.

Reverence filled Harespring as he beheld the starlit waters, solidifying that feeling of _Here I am._ He looked at Kestrelflight.

Kestrelflight gave him a reassuring smile, then brushed his pelt with Harespring’s as he settled down at the shining water’s edge. Harespring stood for another moment, watching Kestrelflight’s dark form, traced in starlight. And even though he was about to experience something _very_ few cats ever saw, something that would redefine his life forever, even though he was about to meet StarClan and about to take on the responsibility of an entire Clan…

He found himself wishing he could just curl up with Kestrelflight and forget all their troubles. _You’re leader now, Harespring. Not some mooning apprentice,_ he told himself. _Sit down and get your nine lives, and then you and Kestrelflight will be leader and medicine cat._

With that, he lowered his muzzle and lapped up a mouthful of the ice-cold water. Even as the world faded around him and sleep took hold, he heard a soft voice somewhere deep inside whispering, _I don’t want that._

Then the dream washed over him.

He was standing in the valley, by the lungwort and Tornear and Sunstrike’s graves. It was the same almost-twilight that it had been when they returned after Onestar’s death—and the same as when Kestrelflight had urged him to confront Onestar over the lungwort.

This time, however, they weren’t alone. Harespring kept silent as the stars slowly floated down from the sky, gaining lines between each one, shaping the forms of many starry cats.

He lowered his head in respect to the StarClan cats, some that he recognized and others he did not. Kestrelflight was at his side, he realized, feeling the barest brush of the tom by his shoulder. _We are here_. Neither of them had really moved; they had simply appeared side by side.

The first to step forward was a she-cat Harespring didn’t recognize; stocky and brown-furred. Her gaze was warm and peaceful as she regarded him and her scent was intensely familiar. Something bloomed in his chest as she drew closer.

“Mother,” Harespring whispered in realization.

“Harespring,” Rabbitfur replied, resting her muzzle on his shoulder.

He closed his eyes, breathing in her scent, and remembered his faintest memory of the warm, milky scent wreathing around him in the nursery. Because of how late in life she’d had him, she had been very weak after he was born, and had died before he was a moon old. Nightcloud, Runningbrook, and Whitetail had nursed him until he had been old enough to eat prey. He had grown up without much of a mother, and soon after that, no father either when Darkfoot passed away from green-cough.

“I’m so proud of you, son,” Rabbitfur murmured.

Harespring felt a purr rumbling in his chest.

“I’m going to give you your first life,” she told him, pulling back. “Be brave, my son. Are you ready?”

He nodded.

“This life is for gentleness.”

As their noses met, Harespring felt a great trembling overtake his body. His limbs felt as weak as stalks of grass, his heart easily bruised flesh, and his spirit as uncertain as an unfed flame.

“Show your Clan grace, and they’ll show you the same,” his mother whispered as the tide swept over Harespring. “Remember that you are no different from them, even when they look to you for guidance.”

Harespring concentrated on staying upright as the last of the life poured into him. Finally, his strength returned to his body and he straightened, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you, Rabbitfur,” he said.

Her yellow eyes glowed with warmth as she gave him a quick lick over the ear. “I wish I could have watched you grow up in WindClan, son, but you’ve made me so proud up here. Your father says the same.”

Then she withdrew to stand within the starry rank as the next cat stepped forward. Harespring drew in a sharp breath, bracing himself. _Eight more times?_ The first one had left him trembling like the last dead leaf on a branch.

“Just a moment,” Kestrelflight told the next starry cat, and then lowered his head to Harespring’s as his leader panted. “Are you alright?”

Harespring gulped and blinked away the film that stung his eyes. “Yes. Yes, let’s keep going.” For a moment, it felt as though he was right back in the medicine den, resting a wrenched shoulder with Kestrelpaw at his side. _Eight more,_ he told himself, and raised his head.

Before him stood a very small tabby she-cat, her outline indistinct against the grass. Her green eyes were round, almost kit-like, and she looked up at him with a bit of wonder. “Harespring.”

“Yes,” he rasped. “Er, who are you?”

She smiled and cocked her head shyly. “I’m Mottlepaw.”

Harespring froze.

She stretched up to her the tip of her toes and touched his muzzle. “This life is for patience.”

Her presence alone had been enough to make him fall still, but as the life swept into him, his limbs locked up like they were carved of granite. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to regulate his breathing as he accepted her life. As soon as the feeling of immovable stone left, it was replaced with the peace of a placid lake.

“Take care of your Clan first before you seek revenge,” Mottlepaw whispered. “Wrath will save no lives. Keep your kin and your Clanmates safe. Temper your rage.”

And abruptly, it flooded back out of Harespring and he sagged, nearly buckling to the earth. Kestrelflight pressed his pelt against his and Harespring took a deep breath.

“Thank you, Mottlepaw,” he breathed. “I hope you’ve found peace in StarClan.”

She blinked at him, perfectly innocent. “Good luck.”

He could feel Kestrelflight’s questioning stare, but Harespring didn’t feel the strength to do much more than dip his head to the fading apprentice as she scampered back into the group of StarClan cats.

“I can do it,” he murmured to Kestrelflight. His medicine cat was silent for a heartbeat, then nodded.

“I know.”

The next cat to step forward took Harespring by surprise. He was familiar, but certainly not a cat that Harespring would have guessed would be attending his ceremony.

“Dustpelt?” Harespring blinked. “You’re dead?”

“I was disappointed when I found out too,” Dustpelt answered dryly, then looked down at Harespring expectantly. Whatever he saw in Harespring’s steady gaze, his squared shoulders, it must have satisfied him because he said, “Apparently you looked up to me as an apprentice, so here I am.”

Harespring’s ears felt hot at the secret being revealed. “I… yes. You were a fearsome warrior.”

Dustpelt snorted, and gave him a wry look. “Hm. Alright. I have a life to give you. It’s for courage.”

Harespring braced himself, with good reason that time, because Dustpelt’s life was like swallowing a wildfire. Every mouse-length of his body shook as vision after vision raged through him, of a gentle gray she-cat with green eyes, of kits to protect, of shadows attacking his family, and the answering fury that rose within him. The honour in serving his Clan shivered within his spirit, a reminder of why he did what he did, and… being the protector until StarClan saw fit to lay him to rest.

Harespring heaved a breath, his chest suddenly feeling tight, and couldn’t speak when he met Dustpelt’s steady gaze.

“You’ll serve your Clan well, Harespring,” Dustpelt assured him, his voice low and soft. “Not too well, though. Don’t get into any trouble with ThunderClan, alright?”

Harespring tried to rasp a purr, though it came out as more of a wheeze. He nodded shakily to Dustpelt as the senior warrior padded back to his fellow StarClan cats. A small, apprentice-age brown tom with stars glittering in his fur immediately hurried over to Dustpelt’s side, pressing his muzzle into his father’s pelt.

He tried in vain to catch his breath before the next cat approached, choked up by feeling.

“Are you sure you don’t need to take a break?” Kestrelflight whispered to him, still by his side. Somewhere in his untempered mind, he prayed that Kestrelflight would never leave.

“I can do it,” he ground out, then gasped as he saw the next cat draw near. “Tornear!”

The old gray-and-white tom raised his chin proudly as he came to a halt in front of his former apprentice. “Congratulations, Harespring. I always knew you could do it.”

He dipped his head. “Thank you for believing in me when I didn’t believe in myself.”

“This life is for endurance,” Tornear told him, and rested his muzzle atop Harespring’s head. “Hold tight to what you know is right and true, and you can weather any storm.”

Harespring sucked in another shaking breath as his fourth life buffeted him. His pelt felt as hard and resilient as a turtle’s shell, each wave breaking across him. He withstood it with gritted teeth. “Thank you, Tornear,” he repeated once it had ebbed and he could speak again.

Tornear gave him a fond nudge. “You’ll be alright.”

The next cat that stepped forward Harespring hadn’t seen in so long that he almost didn’t recognize him. He was much younger in StarClan, his brown fur filled out and thicker than it had been in his old age.

“Barkface,” Kestrelflight whispered from his side.

Barkface gave his old apprentice a warm look, then turned to Harespring. “Harespring, remember that no Clan cat is meant to live in solitude. StarClan’s rules are meant to guide us to our most honourable, fulfilling, and loving lives, not to constrict and deny. StarClan is on your side.”

_What…?_ Harespring stared at him, shock racing through him at the conclusion he drew from the words. _Is he assuring me that keeping a certain distance from Kestrelflight is the right thing, or…_ Barkface merely dipped his head, then stretched forward to touch Harespring’s nose.

“This life is for faith,” Barkface murmured. “Trust StarClan. We’re all rooting for you, Harespring.”

Harespring stilled as the life filled him. Wonder and reverence warmed him to the very ends of his fur, that same sense of clarity that he’d felt twice before tingling through his pelt. _It’s faith,_ he realized faintly. _That I’m doing the right thing, and that I’m on the right path._ As he gazed as Kestrelflight, by his side, he felt that flame glow all the more brightly. This _is the right thing._

The next to step forward was a cat that Harespring _had_ expected to see. Onestar stood proud and tall in StarClan, starlight glinting in his powerful, lean body.

“You’re going to be a leader remembered for many moons,” Onestar told him as he pressed his muzzle to Harespring’s forehead. “This life is for wisdom. Listen to your elders and don’t close yourself off from your Clan. Strength comes from being together.”

_Being together,_ Harespring’s mind echoed. Onestar’s life felt like a sunrise after guarding the camp all night; it was steady, slow, and promised a bright future. _We’ve both made such mistakes,_ he thought, meeting his leader’s gaze. _But no cat can change the past. Now, all I can do is listen to my Clan and help them to the best of my abilities._

Onestar nodded, and withdrew. Harespring swallowed, and took a deep breath. Exhaustion dragged at his paws, but there were still three star-speckled forms waiting to gift him lives. _I can do it,_ he told himself, trying to remember Tornear’s assurance and the feeling of permanence he had imparted onto Harestar. _Three more._ When he turned to look at Kestrelflight, he believed it. The medicine cat nudged him, and Harespring turned back to greet the next cat.

The muscled gray she-cat that stood before him was another he had not seen in so long and had been changed by StarClan in such a way that he almost did not recognize her. The sharp intelligence in her yellow eyes brought her name back.

“Ashfoot.” Harespring bowed his head to his predecessor. _She would have made a formidable leader._

“Congratulations,” she said briskly. “I have a life for you.”

Harespring lifted his head once more to receive it, and Ashfoot pressed her muzzle to his forehead.

“This is for forgiveness,” Ashfoot whispered. “If you try to punish yourself for every misstep, you will never be able to serve your Clan. Let go of that anger, and channel your strength into leading WindClan instead.”

Weakness seeped into Harespring from the point of contact, and Harespring felt his legs collapse under him as internal muscles that had been locked up for years finally gave in. As the anger with himself for everything that had happened leading up to the Great Battle was at last washed away by Ashfoot’s life, Harespring felt very suddenly hollow. He focused on breathing, filling his lungs with air and filling his chest with peace and compassion toward his own mistakes.

“WindClan needs you,” Ashfoot murmured. “Take care of my son.”

Then she retreated and an unfamiliar tom took her place. His lean, dark gray pelt and brown-flecked fur echoed Willowclaw and Leaftail’s bodies. There was also a certain darkness in his yellow eyes that Harespring recognized, though not because it recalled that of his Clanmates.

“Harespring,” the tom mewed, voice deep and rich. “I am Hawkheart, medicine cat of the WindClan before Tallstar.”

Harespring’s eyes widened, humbled to be in the presence of such a senior spirit. Still, there was something about him that Harespring couldn’t quite understand, for a medicine cat.

“I led a difficult life,” Hawkheart growled, then jerked forward to give his life to Harespring. “I was a warrior before I was a medicine cat and I believed that strength was violence and brutality.”

The life battered him like a deluge as Hawkheart continued to speak, his deep voice intense. Harespring closed his eyes tightly.

“But this life is for a _different_ kind of strength,” Hawkheart whispered, then finally pulled back. “Mercy, healing, and service. They’ll take all the strength you have, Harespring, but remember that it’s the most honourable battle you can ever fight.”

As Harespring felt the last of the life rip at him, testing every crevice of his body, looking for weaknesses, he looked deep into Hawkheart’s eyes and saw something buried. _He’s killed a cat,_ he realized. _Somewhere, somehow… he ended a life._ His heart raged in his chest against the choking exhaustion of the eighth life.

Then he dipped his head to Hawkheart, and waited as he withdrew.

Finally, his last life was upon him.

“Sunstrike,” he whispered.

She was radiant in the frosty light, the white dash on her forehead like a star unto itself. Then she smiled. “Harespring.”

He couldn’t meet her gaze for more than a moment, hanging his head. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

“I wouldn’t have asked that of you,” she replied, drawing closer. He raised his head and felt his heart clench at the raw emotion that glimmered in her green eyes. “Do you know why I fell in love with you?”

He huffed a laugh. “No, I have no idea.”

“Because you’re good,” she said simply, and then touched her nose to his forehead. “You have so much goodness inside you it’s coming out your ears.” Her purr rumbled through him. “I’m sad that you can’t see it all the time, but I wanted to tell you. You’re a good, kind tom, and I know that you’ve done your best to do the right thing, and to keep our Clan safe.”

Harespring’s eyes stung, and he bowed his head as the life began to trickle into him.

“This life is for joy, Harespring,” she whispered. “You have the chance to be truly, truly happy now. Don’t waste it. You’ve given so much of yourself to your Clan, and you deserve joy now. I guess I’m a little biased, but I really do believe it.”

He chuckled, and then relaxed entirely as her life rippled into him. This one wasn’t ferocious or painful or exhausting. It cascaded down the back of his head and settled into his belly, warm and golden as green-leaf sunshine. One by one, each of his limbs slackened until he felt as though he was floating in honey.

“You’ve got this,” she told him. He remembered the same words from another life, in a place opposite to this one. This time, though, there was no quiver of doubt in her words. Her eyes shone as she stepped back.

“Thank you,” he breathed.

Onestar stepped forward. “I hail you by your new name, Harestar. Your old life is no more. You have now received the nine lives of a leader, and StarClan grants you the guardianship of WindClan.”

Harestar raised his chin to look each of them in the eye. Finally, he looked at Kestrelflight and he felt the bond between them like it was a physical thing, lashing each pawstep together, binding their hearts to the other’s. _I wouldn’t be here without him,_ he thought. _Shredtail was right about that much._ He’s _the reason._

“Harestar!” Sunstrike was the first to greet him.

Every StarClan cat in the valley added their voice to hers. Ashfoot gave him a sharp nod, Hawkheart bowed his head, and Tornear came right over to him to rest his muzzle on his old apprentice’s shoulder. Dustpelt looked on proudly from next to his young son. Harestar accepted each greeting, speechless. The sky overhead had changed into the dead of night, and the stars seemed to shine brighter as the StarClan cats’ calls washed over him.

“Thank you,” he finally rasped. “Thank you all. I’ll do my best to lead WindClan and make you all proud.”

Then one by one, each spirit vanished, until Kestrelflight and Harestar were alone in the valley. Kestrelflight turned to him, green eyes glowing with starlight, and Harestar felt a sudden ache seize his heart. _All these lives… this power, these burdens…_ Barkface’s words echoed in his mind. _StarClan doesn’t seek to constrict and deny. But how can I live my most fulfilling, loving, honourable life without him?_

The dream fell away around him.

They awoke curled around each other at the water’s edge. Harestar stood quickly, but Kestrelflight was slower to get to his paws. There was a weight in his gaze that Harestar had never seen before. Responsibility, maybe. Or was that what pressed on Harestar’s shoulders? _I’m leader now. That means service to my Clan._

Kestrelflight gave him a long, long look.

_And it means I have the power to change things._

“We need to talk,” Kestrelflight said.

“Yes,” Harestar replied quietly. “I think we do.”

* * *

_Just don't give up / I'm working it out / Please don't give in / I won't let you down / It messed me up, need a second to breathe / Just keep coming around / Hey, what do you want from me / What do you want from me?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. It's done. Turning Tail took me about 24 hours of work and I am so, so, so grateful for the response I've gotten! Your comments and feedback mean the world to me.
> 
> Anyway. Done but not forgotten, and I'm considering writing a 'coda' kind of part to both this and Catch and Release (from the perspectives of Kestrelflight and Minnowtail.)
> 
> And lastly, please leave me a comment! If you've made it to the end, I love you.
> 
> ~Akila


End file.
